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THE GOLDEN LION 



OF 



GRANPERE. 



LONDON : 
ROBSON AND SONS, PRINTERS, PANCRAS ROAD, N.W. 



THE GOLDEN LION 



OF 



GRAN P ERE. 



BY 

ANTHONY TROLLOPE, 

AUTHOR OP ' RALPn THE HEIR,' ' CAN YOU FORGIVE HER ?' ETC. 



LONDON: 
TINSLEY BROTHERS, 18 CATHERINE ST STRAND. 

1872. 

\The right of translation and reproduction is reserved.'] 



Kv 



^ 









THE 



GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEEE. 



CHAPTER I. 

Up among the Yosges mountains in Lorraine, 
but just outside the old half- German province 
of Alsace, about thirty miles distant from the 
new and thoroughly French baths of Plornbieres, 
there lies the village of Granpere. Whatever 
may be said or thought here in England of the 
late imperial rule in France, it must at any 
rate be admitted that good roads were made 
under the Empire. Alsace, which twenty years 
ago seems to have been somewhat behindhand 
in this respect, received her full share of Napo- 
leon's attention, and Granpere is now placed 

B 



A THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPERE. 

on an excellent road which runs from the town 
of Eemireniont on one line of railway, to Col- 
mar on another. The inhabitants of the Alsa- 
tian Ballon hills and the open valleys among 
them seem to think that the civilisation of 
great cities has been brought near enough to 
them, as there is already a diligence running 
daily from Granpere to Eemiremont; — and at 
Eemiremont you are on the railway, and, of 
course, in the middle of everything. 

And indeed an observant traveller will be 
led to think that a great deal of what may 
most truly be called civilisation has found its 
way in among the Ballons, whether it travelled 
thither by the new - fangled railways and im- 
perial routes, or found its passage along the 
valley streams before imperial favours had been 
showered upon the district. We are told that 
when Pastor Oberlin was appointed to his cure 
as Protestant clergyman in the Ban cle la Eoche 
a little more than one hundred years ago, — 
that was, in 1767, — this region was densely 
dark and far behind in the world's running as 
regards all progress. The people were ignor- 
ant, poor, half-starved, almost savage, destitute 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEBE. d 

of communication, and unable to produce from 
their own soil enough food for their own sus- 
tenance. Of manufacturing enterprise they un- 
derstood nothing, and were only just far enough 
advanced in knowledge for the Protestants to 
hate the Catholics, and the Catholics to hate the 
Protestants. Then came that wonderful clergy- 
man, Pastor Oberlin, — he was indeed a won- 
derful clergyman, — and made a great change. 
Since that there have been the two empires, 
and Alsace has looked up in the world. Whe- 
ther the thanks of the people are more honestly 
due to Oberlin or to the late Emperor, the 
author of this little story will not pretend to 
say ; but he will venture to express his opinion 
that at present the rural Alsatians are a happy, 
prosperous people, with the burden on their 
shoulders of but few paupers, and fewer gentle- 
men, — apparently a contented people, not aim 
bitious, given but little to politics. Protestants 
and Catholics mingled without hatred or fanati- 
cism, educated though not learned, industrious 
though not energetic, quiet and peaceful, mak- 
ing linen and cheese, growing potatoes, import- 
ing corn, coming into the world, marrying, be- 



4 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

getting children, and dying in the wholesome 
homespun fashion which is so sweet to us in 
that mood of philosophy which teaches us to 
love the country and to despise the town. Whe- 
ther* it be better for a people to achieve an 
even level of prosperity, which is shared by 
all, but which makes none eminent, or to en- 
counter those rough, ambitious, competitive 
strengths which produce both palaces and poor- 
houses, shall not be matter of argument here; 
but the teller of this story is disposed to think 
that the chance traveller, as long as he tarries 
at Granpere, will insensibly and perhaps uncon- 
sciously become an advocate of the former doc- 
trine ; he will be struck by the comfort which 
he sees around him, and for a while will dis- 
pense with wealth, luxury, scholarships, and 
fashion. "Whether the inhabitants of these hills 
and valleys will advance to farther progress 
now that they are again to become German, is 
another question, which the writer will not 
attempt to answer here. 

Granpere in itself is a very pleasing village. 
Though the amount of population and number 
of houses do not suffice to make it more than a 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

village, it covers so large a space of ground as 
almost to give it a claim to town honours. It is 
perhaps a full mile in length; and though it has 
but one street, there are buildings standing here 
and there, back from the line, which make it 
seem to stretch beyond the narrow confines of a 
single thoroughfare. In most French villages 
some of the houses are high and spacious, but 
here they seem almost all to be so. And many 
of them have been constructed after that inde- 
pendent fashion which always gives to a house 
in a street a character and importance of its 
own. They do not stand in a simple line, each 
supported by the strength of its neighbour, but 
occupy their own ground, facing this way or 
that as each may please, presenting here a corner 
to the main street, and there an end. There 
are little gardens, and big stables, and commo- 
dious barns ; and periodical paint with annual 
whitewash is not wanting. The unstinted slates 
shine copiously under the sun, and over almost 
every other door there is a large lettered board 
which indicates that the resident within is a 
dealer in the linen which is produced through- 
out the country. All these things together give 



6 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

to Granpere an air of prosperity and comfort 
which, is not at all checked by the fact that 
there is in the place no mansion which we 
Englishmen wonld call the gentleman's house, 
nothing approaching to the ascendancy of a 
parish squire, no baron's castle, no manorial 
hall, — not even a chateau to overshadow the 
modest roofs of the dealers in the linen of the 
Yosges. 

And the scenery round Granpere is very 
pleasant, though the neighbouring hills never 
rise to the magnificence of mountains or pro- 
duce that grandeur which tourists desire when 
they travel in search of the beauties of Nature. 
It is a spot to love if you know it well, rather 
than to visit with hopes raised high, and to 
leave with vivid impressions. There is water 
in abundance ; a pretty lake lying at the feet 
of sloping hills, rivulets running down from the 
high upper lands and turning many a modest 
wheel in their course, a waterfall or two here 
and there, and a so - called mountain summit 
within an easy distance, from whence the sun 
may be seen to rise among the Swiss moun- 
tains ; — and distant perhaps three miles from 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GKANPEKE. 7 

the village the main river which runs down 
the valley makes for itself a wild ravine, just 
where the bridge on the new road to Miinster 
crosses the water, and helps to excuse the peo- 
ple of Granpere for claiming for themselves a 
great object of natural attraction. The bridge 
and the river and the ravine are very pretty, 
and perhaps justify all that the villagers say 
of them when they sing to travellers the praises 
of their country. 

"Whether it be the sale of linen that has 
produced the large inn at Granpere, or the de- 
licious air of the place, or the ravine and the 
bridge, matters little to our story ; but the fact 
of the inn matters very much. There it is, — 
a roomy, commodious building, not easily in- 
telligible to a stranger, with its widely dis- 
tributed parts, standing like an inverted V, with 
its open side towards the main road. On the 
ground-floor on one side are the large stables 
and coach-house, with a billiard-room and cafe 
over them, and a long balcony which runs round 
the building ; and on the other side there are 
kitchens and drinking - rooms, and over these 
the chamber for meals and the bedrooms. All 



b THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

large, airy, and clean, though, perhaps, not ex- 
cellently well finished in their construction, and 
furnished with but little pretence to French 
luxury. And behind the inn there are gardens, 
by no means trim, and a dusty summer-house, 
which serves, however, for the smoking of a 
cigar; and there is generally space and plenty 
and goodwill. Either the linen, or the air, or 
the ravine, or, as is more probable, the three 
combined, have produced a business, so that 
the landlord of the Lion d'Or at Granpere is a 
thriving man. 

The reader shall at once be introduced to 
the landlord, and informed at the same time 
that, in so far as he may be interested in this 
story, he will have to take up his abode at the 
Lion d'Or till it be concluded; not as a guest 
staying loosely at his inn, but as one who is 
concerned with all the innermost affairs of the 
household. He will not simply eat his plate of 
soup, and drink his glass of wine, and pass on, 
knowing and caring more for the servant than for 
the servant's master, but he must content himself 
to sit at the landlord's table, to converse very 
frequently with the landlord's wife, to become 



THE GOLDEN LION OP GRAXPEEE. 9 

very intimate with the landlord's son — whether 
on loving or on unloving terms shall be left 
entirely to himself — and to throw himself, with 
the sympathy of old friendship, into all the 
troubles and all the joys of the landlord's niece. 
If the reader be one who cannot take such a 
journey, and pass a month or two without the 
society of persons whom he would define as 
ladies and gentlemen, he had better be warned 
at once, and move on, not setting foot within 
the Lion cl'Or at Granpere. 

Michel Yoss, the landlord, in person was at 
this time a tall, stout, active, and very hand- 
some man, about fifty years of age. As his son 
was already twenty-five — and was known to bo 
so throughout the commune — people were sure 
that Michel Yoss was fifty or thereabouts; but 
there was very little in his appearance to in- 
dicate so many years. He was fat and burly to 
be sure ; but then he was not fat to lethargy, 
or burly with any sign of slowness. There was 
still the spring of youth in his footstep, and 
when there was some weight to be lifted, some 
heavy timber to be thrust here or there, some 
huge lumbering vehicle to be hoisted in or out, 



10 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

there was no arm about the place so strong as 
that of the master. His short, dark, curly hair 
— that was always kept clipped round his head — 
was beginning to show a tinge of gray, but the 
huge moustache on his upper lip was still of a 
thorough brown, as was also the small morsel 
of beard which he wore upon his chin. He 
had bright sharp brown eyes, a nose slightly 
beaked, and a large mouth. He was on the 
whole a man of good temper, just withal, and 
one who loved those who belonged to him ; but 
he chose to be master in his own house, and 
was apt to think that his superior years enabled 
him to know what younger people wanted better 
than they would know themselves. He was 
loved in his house and respected in his village ; 
but there was something in the beak of his nose 
and the brightness of his eye which was apt to 
make those around him afraid of him. And 
indeed Michel Voss could lose his temper and 
become an angry man. 

Our landlord had been twice married. By 
his first wife he had now living a single son, 
George Yoss, who at the time of our tale had 
already reached his twenty-fifth year. George, 



THE GOLDEN LION OE GRANPEKE. 11 

however, clicV not at this time live under his 
father's roof, having taken service for a time 
with the landlady of another inn at Colmar. 
George Yoss was known to be a clever young 
man ; many in those parts declared that he was 
much more so than his father ; and when he 
became clerk at the Poste in Colmar, and after 
a year or two had taken into his hands almost 
the entire management of that house — so that 
people began to say that old-fashioned and 
wretched as it was, money might still be made 
there — people began to say also that Michel Yoss 
had been wrong to allow his son to leave Gran- 
pere. But in truth there had been a few words 
between the father and the son ; and the two 
were so like each other that the father found 
it difficult to rule, and the son found it difficult 
to be ruled. 

George Yoss was very like his father, with 
this difference, as he was often told by the old 
folk about Granpere, that he would never fill 
his father's shoes. He was a smaller man, less 
tall by a couple of inches, less broad in propor- 
tion across the shoulders, whose arm would 
never be so strong, whose leg would never grace 



12 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEEE. 

a tight stocking with so full a development. 
But he had the same eye, bright and brown 
and very quick, the same mouth, the same 
aquiline nose, the same broad forehead and well- 
shaped chin, and the same look in his face 
which made men know as by instinct that he 
would sooner command than obey. So there 
had come to be a few words, and George Voss 
had gone away to the house of a cousin of his 
mother's, and had taken to commanding there. 

Not that there had been any quarrel between 
the father and the son ; nor indeed that George 
was aware that he had been in the least dis- 
obedient to his parent. There was no recog- 
nised ambition for rule in the breasts of either 
of them. It was simply this, that their tempers 
were alike ; and when on an occasion Michel 
told his son that he would not allow a certain 
piece of folly which the son was, as he thought, 
likely to commit, George declared that he would 
soon set that matter right by leaving Granperc. 
Accordingly he did leave Granpere, and became 
the right hand, and indeed the head, and back- 
bone, and best leg of his old cousin Madame 
Paragon of the Poste at Colmar. Now the 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPEEE. 1 



matter on which, these few words occurred was 
a question of love — whether George Yoss should 
fall in love with and marry his step-mother's 
niece Marie Bromar. But before anything far- 
ther can be said of these few words, Madame 
Yoss and her niece must be introduced to the 
reader. 

Madame Yoss was nearly twenty years 
younger than her husband, and had now been 
a wife some five or six years. She had been 
brought from Epinal, where she had lived with 
a married sister, a widow, much older than her- 
self — in parting from whom on her marriage 
there had been much tribulation. ' Should any- 
thing happen to Marie,' she had said to Michel 
Yoss, before she gave him her troth, i you will 
let Minnie Bromar come to me ?' Michel Yoss, 
who was then hotly in love with his hoped-for 
bride— hotly in love in spite of his four-and- 
forty years — gave the required promise. The 
said ' something' which had been suspected had 
happened. Madame Bromar had died, and 
Minnie Bromar her daughter — or Marie as she 
was always afterwards called — had at once been 
taken into the house at Granpere. Michel never 



14 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEEE. 

thought twice about it when he was reminded 
of his promise. i If I hadn't promised at all, 
she should come the same/ he said. c The house 
is big enough for a dozen more yet.' In saying 
this he perhaps alluded to a little baby that 
then lay in a cradle in his wife's room, by means 
of which at that time Madame Yoss was able 
to make her big husband do pretty nearly any- 
thing that she pleased. So Marie Bromar, then 
just fifteen years of age, was brought over from 
Epinal to Granpere, and the house certainly was 
not felt to be too small because she was there. 
Marie soon learned the ways and wishes of her 
burly, soft-hearted uncle; would fill his pipe 
for him, and hand him his soup, and bring his 
slippers, and put her soft arm round his neck, 
and became a favourite. She was only a child 
when she came, and Michel thought it was very 
pleasant; but in five years' time she was a 
woman, and Michel w T as forced to reflect that it 
would not be w^ell that there should be another 
marriage and another family in the house while 
he was so young himself, — there was at this 
time a third baby in the cradle, — and then Marie 
Bromar had not a franc of dot. Marie was the 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GBANPERE. 15 

sweetest eldest daughter in the world, but he 
could not think it right that his son should 
marry a wife before he had done a stroke for 
himself in the world. Prudence made it abso- 
lutely necessary that he should say a word to 
his son. 

Madame Yoss was certainly nearly twenty 
years younger than her husband, and yet the 
pair did not look to be ill-sorted. Michel was 
so handsome, strong, and hale; and Madame 
Yoss, though she was a comely woman, — though 
when she was brought home a bride to Gran- 
pere the neighbours had all declared that she 
was very handsome, — carried with her a look 
of more years than she really possessed. She 
had borne many of a woman's cares, and had 
known much of woman's sorrows before she had 
become wife to Michel Yoss; and then wdien 
the babes came, and she had settled down as mis- 
tress of that large household, and taught herself 
to regard George Yoss and Marie Bromar almost 
as her own children, all idea that she was much 
younger than her husband departed from her. 
She was a woman who desired to excel her 
husband in nothing, — if only she might be con- 



16 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

siclered to be in some things his equal. There 
was no feeling in the village that Michel Yoss 
had brought home a young wife and had made 
a fool of himself. He was a man entitled to 
have a wife much younger than himself. Ma- 
dame Yoss in those days always wore a white 
cap and a dark stuff gown, which was changed 
on Sundays for one of black silk, and brown 
mittens on her hands, and she went about the 
house in soft carpet shoes. She was a conscien- 
tious, useful, but not an enterprising woman; 
loving her husband much and fearing him some- 
what; liking to have her own way in certain 
small matters, but willing to be led in other 
things so long as those were surrendered to her ; 
careful with her children, the care of whom 
seemed to deprive her of the power of caring 
for the business of the inn ; kind to her niece, 
good-humoured in her house, and satisfied with 
the world at large as long as she might always 
be allowed to entertain M. le Cure at dinner on 
Sundays. Michel Yoss, Protestant though he 
was, had not the slightest objection to giving 
M. le Cure his Sunday dinner, on condition that 
M. le Cure on these occasions would confine his 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 17 

conversation to open subjects. M. le Cure was 
quite willing to eat his dinner and give no 
offence. 

A word too must be said of Marie Bromar 
before we begin our story. Marie Bromar is the 
heroine of this little tale ; and the reader must 
be made to have some idea of her as she would 
have appeared before him had he seen her stand- 
ing near her uncle in the long room upstairs of 
the hotel at Granpere. Marie had been fifteen 
when she was brought from Epinal to Granpere, 
and had then been a child; but she had now 
reached her twentieth birthday, and was a wo- 
man. She was not above the middle height, and 
might seem to be less indeed in that house, be- 
cause her aunt and her uncle were tall ; but she 
was straight, well made, and very active. She 
was strong and liked to use her strength, and 
was very keen about all the work of the house. 
During the five years of her residence at Gran- 
pere she had thoroughly learned the mysteries 
of her uncle's trade. She knew good wine from 
bad by the perfume ; she knew whether bread 
was the full weight by the touch ; with a glance 
of her eye she could tell whether the cheese and 

c 



18 THE GOLDEN LION 0E GRANPERE. 

butter were what they ought to be ; in a matter 
of poultry no woman in all the commune could 
take her in ; she was great in judging eggs ; 
knew well the quality of linen; and was even 
able to calculate how long the hay should last, 
and what should be the consumption of corn in 
the stables. Michel Voss was well aware before 
Marie had been a year beneath his roof that she 
well earned the morsel she ate and the drop she 
drank ; and when she had been there five years 
he was ready to swear that she was the cleverest 
girl in Lorraine or Alsace. And she was very 
pretty, with rich brown hair that would not 
allow itself to be brushed out of its crisp half- 
curls in front, and which she always wore cut 
short behind, curling round her straight, well- 
formed neck. Her eyes were gray, with a 
strong shade indeed of green, but were very 
bright and pleasant, full of intelligence, telling 
stories by their glances of her whole inward dis- 
position, of her activity, quickness, and desire to 
have a hand in everything that was being done. 
Her father Jean Bromar had come from the same 
stock with Michel Yoss, and she, too, had some- 
thing of that aquiline nose which gave to the 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPERE. 19 

innkeeper and his son the look which made men 
dislike to contradict them. Her month was 
large, but her teeth were very white and per- 
fect, and her smile was the sweetest thing that 
ever was seen. Marie Bromar was a pretty girl, 
and George Yoss, had he lived so near to her 
and not have fallen in love with her, must have 
been cold indeed. 

At the end of these five years Marie had be- 
come a woman, and was known by all around 
her to be a woman much stronger, both in per- 
son and in purpose, than her aunt ; but she 
maintained, almost unconsciously, many of the 
ways in the house which she had assumed when 
she first entered it. Then she had always been 
on foot, to be everybody's messenger, — and so 
she was now. When her uncle and aunt were 
at their meals she was always up and about, — 
attending them, attending the public guests, at- 
tending the whole house. And it seemed as 
though she herself never sat down to eat or 
drink. Indeed, it was rare enough to find her 
seated at all. She would have a cup of coffee 
standing up at the little desk near the public 
window when she kept her books, or would take 



20 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEEE. 

a morsel of meat as she helped to remove the 
dishes. She would stand sometimes for a minute 
leaning on the back of her uncle's chair as he sat 
at his supper, and would say, when he bade her 
to take her chair and eat with them, that she 
preferred picking and stealing. In all things 
she worshipped her uncle, observing his move- 
ments, caring for his wants, and carrying out his 
plans. She did not worship her aunt, but she 
so served Madame Voss that had she been with- 
drawn from the household Madame Voss would 
have found herself altogether unable to provide 
for its wants. Thus Marie Bromar had become 
the guardian angel of the Lion d'Or at Gran- 
pere. 

There must be a word or two more said of 
the difference between George Yoss and his 
father which had ended in sending George to 
Colmar ; a word or two about that, and a word 
also of what occurred between George and Marie. 
Then we shall be able to commence our story 
without farther reference to things past. As 
Michel Voss was a just, affectionate, and intelli- 
gent man, he would not probably have objected 
to a marriage between the two young people, 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPEEE. 21 

had the proposition for such a marriage been 
first submitted to him, with a proper amount of 
attention to his judgment and controlling power. 
But the idea was introduced to him in a manner 
which taught him to think that there was to be 
a clandestine love affair. To him George was 
still a boy, and Marie not much more than a 
child, and — without much thinking — he felt 
that the thing was improper. 

( I won't have it, George,' he had said. 

' Won't have what, father ?' 

' Never mind. You know. If you can't get 
over it in any other way, you had better go 
away. You must do something for yourself be- 
fore you can think of marrying.' 

' I am not thinking of marrying.' 

' Then what were you thinking of when I 
saw you with Marie? I won't have it for her 
sake, and I won't have it for mine, and I won't 
have it for your own. You had better go away 
for a while.' 

' I'll go away to - morrow if you wish it, 
father.' Michel had turned away, not saying 
another word ; and on the following day George 
did go away, hardly waiting an hour to set in 



22 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

order his part of his father's business. For it 
must be known that George had not been an 
idler in his father's establishment. There was a 
trade of wood-cutting upon the mountain-side, 
with a saw-mill turned by water beneath, over 
which George had presided almost since he had 
left the school of the commune. When his father 
told him that he was bound to do something be- 
fore he got married, he could not have intended 
to accuse him of having been hitherto idle. Of 
the wood-cutting and the saw-mill George knew 
as much as Marie did of the poultry and the 
linen. Michel was wrong, probably, in his at- 
tempt to separate them. The house was large 
enough, or if not, there was still room for an- 
other house to be built in Granpere. They 
would have done well as man and wife. But 
then the head of a household naturally objects 
to seeing the boys and girls belonging to him 
making love under his nose without any refer- 
ence to his opinion. ' Things were not made so 
easy for me,' he says to himself, and feels it to 
be a sort of duty to take care that the course of 
love shall not run altogether smooth. George, 
no doubt, was too abrupt with his father ; or 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GKANPEEE. 23 

perhaps it might be the case that he was not 
sorry to take an opportunity of leaving for a 
while Granpere and Marie Bromar. It might be 
well to see the world ; and though Marie Bromar 
was bright and pretty, it might be that there 
were others abroad brighter and prettier. 

His father had spoken to him on one fine 
September afternoon, and within an hour George 
was with the men who were stripping bark from 
the great pine logs up on the side of the moun- 
tain. With them, and with two or three others 
who were engaged at the saw-mills, he remained 
till the night was dark. Then he came down 
and told something of his intentions to his step- 
mother. He was going to Colmar on the morrow 
with a horse and small cart, and would take with 
him what clothes he had ready. He did not 
speak to Marie that night, but he said some- 
thing to his father about the timber and the mill. 
Gaspar Muntz, the head woodsman, knew, he 
said, all about the business. Gaspar could carry 
on the work till it would suit Michel Yoss him- 
self to see how things were going on. Michel 
Voss was sore and angry, but he said nothing. 
He sent to his son a couple of hundred francs by 



24: THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

his wife, but said no word of explanation even to 
her. On the following morning George was off 
without seeing his father. 

But Marie was up to give him his break- 
fast. c What is the meaning of this, George ?' 
she said. 

' Father says that I shall be better away from 
this, — so I'm going away.' 

' And why will you be better away?' To 
this George made no answer. ' It will be terrible 
if you quarrel with your father. Nothing can 
be so bad as that.' 

' We have not quarrelled. That is to say, I 
have not quarrelled with him. If he quarrels 
with me, I cannot help it.' 

' It must be helped,' said Marie, as she placed 
before him a mess of eggs which she had cooked 
for him with her own hands. * I would sooner 
die than see anything wrong between you two.' 
Then there was a pause. ' Is it about me, 
George ?' she asked boldly. 

< Father thinks that I love you : — so I do.' 

Marie paused for a few minutes before she 
said anything farther. She was standing very 
near to George, who was eating his breakfast 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 25 

heartily in spite of the interesting nature of the 
conversation. As she filled his cnp a second 
time, she spoke again. 'I will never do any- 
thing, George, if I can help it, to displease my 
uncle.' 

' But why should it displease him ? He 
wants to have his own way in everything.' 

' Of course he does.' 

1 He has told me to go ; — and I'll go. I've 
worked for him as no other man would work, 
and have never said a word about a share in the 
business ; — and never would.' 

' Is it not all for yourself, George ?' 

' And why shouldn't you and I be married if 
we like it?' 

4 1 will never like it,' said she solemnly, ' if 
uncle dislikes it.' 

'Very well,' said George. 'There is the 
horse ready, and now I'm off.' 

So he went, starting just as the day was 
dawning, and no one saw him on that morning 
except Marie Bromar. As soon as he was gone 
she went up to her little room, and sat herself 
down on her bedside. She knew that she loved 
him, and had been told that she was beloved. She 



26 THE GOLDEN LION OP GRANPERE. 

knew that she could not lose him without suffer- 
ing terribly; but now she almost feared that it 
would be necessary that she should lose him. 
His manner had not been tender to her. He had 
indeed said that he loved her, but there had been 
nothing of the tenderness of love in his mode of 
saying so; — and then he had said no word of 
persistency in the teeth of his father's objection. 
She had declared — thoroughly purposing that 
her declaration should be true — that she would 
never become his wife in opposition to her uncle's 
wishes; but he, had he been in earnest, might 
have said something of his readiness to attempt 
at least to overcome his father's objection. But 
he had said not a word, and Marie, as she sat 
upon her bed, made up her mind that it must 
be all over. But she made up her mind also 
that she would entertain no feeling of anger 
against her uncle. She owed him everything, 
so she thought — making no account, as George 
had done, of labour given in return. She was 
only a girl, and what was her labour? For a 
while she resolved that she would give a spoken 
assurance to her uncle that he need fear nothing 
from her. It was natural enough to her that her 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 27 

uncle should desire a better marriage for his son. 
But after a while she reflected that any speech 
from her on such a subject would be difficult, 
and that it would be better that she should hold 
her tongue. So she held her tongue, and thought 
of George, and suffered; — but still was merry, 
at least in manner, when her uncle spoke to 
her, and priced the poultry, and counted the 
linen, and made out the visitors' bills, as though 
nothing evil had come upon her. She was a 
gallant girl, and Michel Yoss, though he could 
not speak of it, understood her gallantry and 
made notes of it on the note-book of his heart. 

In the mean time George Yoss was thriving 
at Colmar, — as the Yosses did thrive wherever 
they settled themselves. But he sent no word 
to his father, — nor did his father send word to 
him, — though they were not more than ten 
leagues apart. Once Madame Yoss went over 
to see him, and brought back word of his well- 
doing. 



CHAPTER II. 

Exactly at eight o'clock every evening a loud 
bell was sounded in the hotel of the Lion d' Ch- 
at Granpere, and all within the house sat down 
together to supper. The supper was spread on 
a long table in the saloon up-stairs, and the room 
was lighted with camphine lamps, — for as yet 
gas had not found its way to Granpere. At this 
meal assembled not only the guests in the house 
and the members of the family of the landlord, 
— but also, many persons living in the village 
whom it suited to take, at a certain price per 
month, the chief meal of the day, at the house 
of the innkeeper, instead of eating in their own 
houses a more costly, a less dainty, and prob- 
ably a lonely supper. Therefore when the bell 
was heard there came together some dozen resi- 
dents of Granpere, mostly young men engaged 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 29 

in the linen trade, from their different lodgings, 
and each took his accustomed seat down the 
sides of the long board, at which, tied in a 
knot, was placed his own napkin. At the top 
of the table was the place of Madame Yoss, 
which she never failed to fill exactly three min- 
utes after the bell had been rung. At her right 
hand was the chair of the master of the house, 
— never occupied by any one else ; — but it 
would often happen that some business would 
keep him away. Since George had left him he 
had taken the timber into his own hands, and 
was accustomed to think and sometimes to say 
that the necessity was cruel on him. Below his 
chair and on the other side of Madame Voss 
there would generally be two or three places 
kept for guests who might be specially looked 
upon as the intimate friends of the mistress of 
the house ; and at the farther end of the table, 
close to the window, was the space allotted to 
travellers. Here the napkins were not tied in 
knots, but were always clean. And, though the 
little plates of radishes, cakes, and dried fruits 
were continued from one of the tables to the 
other, the long- necked thin bottles of common 



30 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

wine came to an end before they reached the 
strangers' portion of the board ; for it had been 
found that strangers would take at that hour 
either tea or a better kind of wine than that 
which Michel Yoss gave to his accustomed guests 
without any special charge. When, however, the 
stranger should please to take the common wine, 
he was by no means thereby prejudiced in the 
eyes of Madame Yoss or her husband. Michel 
Yoss liked a profit, but he liked the habits of 
his country almost as well. 

One evening in September, about twelve 
months after the departure of George, Madame 
Yoss took her seat at the table, and the young 
men of the place who had been waiting round 
the door of the hotel for a few minutes, followed 
her into the room. And there was M. Goudin, 
the Cure, with another young clergyman, his 
friend. On Sundays the Cure always dined at 
the hotel at half- past twelve o'clock, as the 
friend of the family ; but for his supper he 
paid, as did the other guests. I rather fancy 
that on week days he had no particular dinner; 
and indeed there was no such formal meal given 
in the house of Michel Yoss on week days. 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPEKE. 31 

There was something put on the table about 
noon in the little room between the kitchen and 
the public window; but except on Sundays it 
could hardly be called a dinner. On Sundays 
a real dinner was served in the room up-stairs, 
with soup, and removes, and entrees and the roti, 
all in the right place, — which showed that they 
knew what a dinner was at the Lion d'Or; — 
but, throughout the w^eek, supper w r as the meal 
of the day. After M. Goudin, on this occasion, 
there came two maiden ladies from Epinal who 
were lodging at Granpere for change of air. 
They seated themselves near to Madame Voss, 
but still leaving a place or two vacant. And 
presently at the bottom of the table there came 
an Englishman and his wife, who were travell- 
ing through the country ; and so the table was 
made up. A lad of about fifteen, who was 
known in Granpere as the waiter at the Lion 
d'Or, looked after the two strangers and the 
young men, and Marie Bromar, who herself had 
arranged the board, stood at the top of the room, 
by a second table, and dispensed the soup. It 
was pleasant to watch her eyes, as she marked 
the moment when the dispensing should begin, 



32 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

and counted her guests, thoughtful as to the 
sufficiency of the dishes to come ; and noticed 
that Edmond Greisse had sat down with such 
dirty hands that she must bid her uncle to 
warn the lad; and observed that the more eld- 
erly of the two ladies from Epinal had bread 
too hard to suit her, — which should be changed 
as soon as the soup had been dispensed. She 
looked round, and even while dispensing saw 
everything. It was suggested in the last chap- 
ter that another house might have been built in 
Granpere, and that George Yoss might have 
gone there, taking Marie as his bride; but the 
Lion d'Or would sorely have missed those quick 
and careful eyes. 

Then, when that dispensing of the soup was 
concluded, Michel entered the room bringing 
with him a young man. The young man had 
evidently been expected; for, when he took the 
place close at the left hand of Madame Yoss, 
she simply bowed to him, saying some word of 
courtesy as Michel took his place on the other 
side. Then Marie dispensed two more portions 
of soup, and leaving one on the farther table for 
the boy to serve, though she could well have 



THE GOLDEN LION OF (HtANPERE. 33 

brought the two, waited herself upon her uncle. 
i And is Urmand to have no soup ?' said Michel 
Voss, as he took his niece lovingly by the 
hand. 

I Peter is bringing it,' said Marie. And in a 
moment or two Peter the waiter did bring the 
young man his soup. 

'And will not Mademoiselle Marie sit down 
with us ?' said the young man. 

i If you can make her, you have more in- 
fluence than I,' said Michel. i Marie never sits, 
and never eats, and never drinks.' She was 
standing now close behind her uncle with both 
her hands upon his head ; and she would often 
stand so after the supper was commenced, only 
moving to attend upon him, or to supplement 
the services of Peter and the maid- servant when 
she perceived that they were becoming for a 
time inadequate to their duties. She answered 
her uncle now by gently pulling his ears, but 
she said nothing. 

' Sit down with us, Marie, to oblige me,' said 
Madame Voss. 

I I had rather not, aunt, It is foolish to sit 
at supper and not eat, I have taken my supper 

D 



34 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

already. 5 Then she moved away, and hovered 
round the two strangers at the end of the room. 

After supper Michel Voss and the young 
man — Adrian Urmand by name — lit their cigars 
and seated themselves on a bench outside the 
front door. 'Have you never said a word to 
her ?' said Michel. 

1 Well ; — a word ; yes.' 

'But you have not asked her — ; you know 
what I mean; — asked her whether she could 
love you.' 

'Well, — yes. I have said as much as that, 
but I have never got an answer. And when I 
did ask her, she merely left me. She is not 
much given to talking.' 

'She will not make the worse wife, my 
friend, because she is not much given to such 
talking as that. When she is out with me on 
a Sunday afternoon she has chat enough. By 
St. James, she'll talk for two hours without 
stopping when I'm so out of breath with the 
hill that I haven't a word.' 

'I don't doubt she can talk.' 

'That she can; and manage a house better 
than any girl I ever saw. You ask her aunt.' 



THE GOLDEN LION OP GRANPERE. 35 

1 1 know what her aunt thinks of her. Ma- 
dame Voss says that neither yon nor she can 
afford to part with her.' 

Michel Voss was silent for a moment. It was 
dusk, and no one could see him as he brushed a 
tear from each eye with the back of his hand. 
' I'll tell you what, Urmand, — it will break my 
heart to lose her. Do you see how she comes to 
me and comforts me ? But if it broke my heart, 
and broke the house too, I would not keep her 
here. It isn't fit. If you like her, and she can like 
you, it will be a good match for her. You have 
my leave to ask her. She brought nothing here, 
but she has been a good girl, a very good girl, 
and she will not leave the house empty-handed.' 

Adrian Urmand was a linen-buyer from Basle, 
and was known to have a good share in a good 
business. He was a handsome young man too, 
though rather small, and perhaps a little too apt 
to wear rings on his fingers and to show jewelry 
on his shirt-front and about his waistcoat. So 
at least said some of the young people of Gran- 
pere, where rings and gold studs are not so com- 
mon as they are at Basle. But he was one who 
understood his business, and did not neglect it ; 



36 THE GOLDEN LION OE GEANPEEE. 

he had money too; and was therefore such a 
young man that Michel Voss felt that he might 
give his niece to him without danger, if he and 
she could manage to like each other sufficiently. 
As to Urmand' s liking, there was no doubt. Ur- 
mand was ready enough. 

1 1 will see if she will speak to me just now,' 
said Urmand after a pause. 

' Shall her aunt try it, or shall I do it 7 said 
Michel. 

But Adrian Urmand thought that part of the 
pleasure of love lay in the making of it himself. 
So he declined the innkeeper's offer, at any rate 
for the present occasion. 'Perhaps,' said he, 
'Madame Voss will say a word for me after I 
have spoken for myself.' 

'So let it be,' said the landlord. And then 
they finished their cigars in silence. 

It was in vain that Adrian Urmand tried that 
night to obtain audience from Marie. Marie, as 
though she well knew what was wanted of her 
and was determined to thwart her lover, would 
not allow herself to be found alone for a moment. 
"When Adrian presented himself at the window 
of her little bar, he found that Peter was with 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 37 

her, and she managed to keep Peter with her till 
Adrian was gone. And again, when he hoped 
to find her alone for a few moments after the 
work of the clay was over in the small parlour 
where she was accustomed to sit for some half 
hour before she would go up to her room, he was 
again disappointed. She was already up-stairs 
with her aunt and the children, and all Michel 
Voss's good nature in keeping out of the way 
was of no avail. 

But Urmand was determined not to be beaten. 
He intended to return to Basle on the next day 
but one, and desired to put this matter a little in 
forwardness before he took his departure. On 
the following morning he had various appoint- 
ments to keep with countrymen and their wives, 
who sold linen to him, but he was quick over his 
business and managed to get back to the inn 
early in the afternoon. From six till eight he 
well knew that Marie would allow nothing to 
impede her in the grand work of preparing for 
supper; but at four o'clock she would certainly 
be sitting somewhere about the house with her 
needle in her hand. At four o'clock he found 
her, not with her needle in her hand, but, better 



38 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

still, perfectly idle. She was standing at an open 
window, looking out upon the garden as he came 
behind her, standing motionless with both hands 
on the sill of the window, thinking deeply of 
something that filled her mind. It might be 
that she was thinking of him. 

1 I have done with my customers now, and I 
shall be off to Basle to-morrow,' said he, as soon 
as she had looked round at the sound of his foot- 
steps and perceived that he was close to her. 

'I hope you have bought your goods well, 
M. Urmand.' 

1 Ah ! for the matter of that the time for buy- 
ing things well is clean gone. One used to be 
able to buy well ; but there is not an old woman 
now in Alsace who doesn't know as well as I 
do, or better, what linen is worth in Berne and 
Paris. ' They expect to get nearly as much for 
it here at Granpere.' 

' They work hard, M. Urmand, and things are 
dearer than they were. It is well that they 
should get a price for their labour.' 

<A price, yes: — but how is a man to buy 
without a profit ? They think that I come here 
for their sakes, — merely to bring the market to 



THE GOLDEN LION OE GRANPERE. 39 

their doors.' Then he began to remember that 
he had no special object in discussing the cir- 
cumstances of his trade with Marie Bromar, 
and that he had a special object in another di- 
rection. But how to turn the subject was now a 
difficulty. 

'I am sure you do not buy without a profit/ 
said Marie Bromar, when she found that he was 
silent. c And then the poor people, who haye to 
pay so dear for everything !' She was making a 
violent attempt to keep him on the ground of 
his customers and his purchases. 

' There was another thing that I wanted to 
say to you, Marie,' he began at last abruptly. 

' Another thing, ' said Marie, knowing that 
the hour had come. 

' Yes ; — another thing. I daresay you know 
what it is. I need not tell you now that I love 
you, need I, Marie ? You know as well as I do 
what I think of you.' 

'No, I don't,' said Marie, not intending to 
encourage him to tell her, but simply saying that 
which came easiest to her at the moment. 

i I think this, — that if you will consent to be 
my wife, I shall be a very happy man. That is 



40 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

all. Everybody knows how pretty you are, and 
how good, and how clever ; but I do not think 
that anybody loves you better than I do. Can 
you say that you will love me, Marie? Your 
uncle approves of it, — and your aunt.' He had 
now come quite close to her, and having placed 
his hand behind her back, was winding his arm 
round her waist. 

C I will not have you do that, M. Urmand,' 
she said, escaping from his embrace. 

' But that is no answer. Can you love me, 
Marie ?' 

'No,' she said, hardly whispering the word 
between her teeth. 

< And is that to be all ?' 

i "What more can I say ?' 

'But your uncle wishes it, and your aunt. 
Dear Marie, can you not try to love me ?' 

1 1 know they wish it. It is easy enough for 
a girl to see when such things are wished or 
when they are forbidden. Of course I know 
that uncle wishes it. And he is very good; — 
and so are you, I daresay. And I'm sure I 
ought to be very proud, because you are so much 
above me.' 



TKE GOLDEN LION OF GKANPERE. 41 

l I am not a bit above you. If you knew 
what I think, you wouldn't say so.' 

'But— ' 

4 Well, Marie. Think a moment, dearest, be- 
fore you give me an answer that shall make me 
either happy or miserable.' 

* I have thought. I would almost burn my- 
self in the fire, if uncle wished it.' 

' And he does wish this.' 

' But I cannot do this even because he wishes 
it.' 

6 Why not, Marie ?' 

' I prefer being as I am. I do not wish to 
leave the hotel, or to be married at all.' 

c !Nay, Marie, you will certainly be married 
some day.' 

' No ; there is no such certainty. Some girls 
never get married. I am of use here, and I am 
happy here.' 

1 Ah ! it is because you cannot love me.' 

'I don't suppose I shall ever love any one, 
not in that way. I must go away now, M. Ur- 
mand, because I am wanted below.' 

She did go, and Adrian Urmand spoke no 
farther word of love to her on that occasion. 



42 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

l I will speak to her about it myself,' said 
Michel Voss, when he heard his young friend's 
story that evening, seated again upon the bench 
outside the door, and smoking another cigar. 

1 It will be of no use,' said Adrian. 

1 One never knows, 5 said Michel. ' Young 
women are queer cattle to take to market. One 
can never be quite certain which way they want 
to go. After you are off to-morrow, I will have 
a few words with her. She does not quite un- 
derstand as yet that she must make her hay while 
the sun shines. Some of 'em are all in a hurry 
to get married, and some of 'em again are all for 
hanging back, when their friends wish it. It's 
natural, I believe, that they should be contrary. 
But Marie is as good as the best of them, and 
when I speak to her, she'll hear reason.' 

Adrian Urmand had no alternative but to 
assent to the innkeeper's proposition. The idea 
of making love second-hand was not pleasant to 
him; but he could not hinder the uncle from 
speaking his mind to the niece. One little sug- 
gestion he did make before he took his depar- 
ture. ' It can't be, I suppose, that there is any 
one else that she likes better ?' To this Michel 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GKANPERE. 43 

Voss made no answer in words, but shook his 
head in a fashion that made Adrian feel assured 
that there was no danger on that head. 

But Michel Voss, though he had shaken his 
head in a manner so satisfactory, had feared that 
there was such danger. He had considered him- 
self justified in shaking his head, but would not 
be so false as to give in words the assurance 
which Adrian had asked. That night he dis- 
cussed the matter with his wife, declaring it as 
his purpose that Marie Bromar should marry 
Adrian Urmand. ' It is impossible that she 
should do better,' said Michel. 

1 It would be very well/ said Madame Voss. 

1 Very well ! Why, he is worth thirty thou- 
sand francs, and is as steady at his business as 
his father was before him.' 

' He is a dandy.' 

' Psha ! that is nothing !' said Michel. 

4 And he is too fond of money.' 

^ It is a fault on the right side,' said Mi- 
chel. 'His wife and children will not come to 
want.' 

Madame Voss paused a moment before she 
made her last and grand objection to the match. 



44 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

*It is my belief,' said she, 'that Marie is always 
thinking of George.' 

'Then she had better cease to think of him,' 
said Michel ; ' for George is not thinking of her.' 
He said nothing farther, but resolved to speak 
his own mind freely to Marie Bromar. 



CHAPTEE III. 

The old-fashioned inn at Colmar, at which George 
Yoss was acting as assistant and chief manager 
to his father's distant cousin, Madame Faragon, 
was a house very different in all its belongings 
from the Lion d'Or at Granpere. It was very 
much larger, and had much higher pretensions. 
It assumed to itself the character of a first-class 
hotel ; and when Colmar was without a railway, 
and was a great posting-station on the high road 
from Strasbourg to Lyons, there was some real 
business at the Hotel de la Poste in that town. 
At present, though Colmar may probably have 
been benefited by the railway, the inn has faded, 
and is in its yellow leaf. Travellers who desire to 
see the statue which a grateful city has erected to 
the memory of its most illustrious citizen, General 
Eapp, are not sufficient in number to keep a first- 



46 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

class hotel in the glories of fresh paint and smart 
waiters ; and when you have done with General 
Bapp, there is not much to interest you in Col- 
mar. But there is the hotel ; and poor fat, un- 
wieldy Madame Faragon, though she grumbles 
much, and declares that there is not a sou to be 
made, still keeps it up, and bears with as much 
bravery as she can the buffets of a world which 
seems to her to be becoming less prosperous and 
less comfortable and more exacting every day. 
In her younger years, a posting-house in such a 
town was a posting-house ; and when M. Faragon 
married her, the heiress of the then owner of the 
business, he was supposed to have done uncom- 
monly well for himself. Madame Faragon is now 
a childless widow, and sometimes declares that 
she will shut the house up and have done with 
it. Why maintain a business without a profit, 
simply that there may be an Hotel de la Poste 
at Colmar? But there are old servants whom 
she has not the heart to send away ; and she has 
at any rate a roof of her own over her head ; and 
though she herself is unconscious that it is so, 
she has many ties to the old business : and now, 
since her young cousin George Voss has been 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 47 

with her, things go a little better. She is not 
robbed so much, and the people of the town, 
finding that they can get a fair bottle of wine 
and a good supper, come to the inn; and at 
length an omnibus has been established, and 
there is a little glimmer of returning prosperity. 
It is a large old rambling house, built round 
an irregularly-shaped court, with another court 
behind it; and in both courts the stables and 
coach-houses seem to be so mixed with the kit- 
chens and entrances, that one hardly knows what 
part of the building is equine and what part hu- 
man. Judging from the smell which pervades 
the lower quarters, and, alas, also too frequently 
the upper rooms, one would be inclined to say 
that the horses had the best of it. The defect 
had been pointed out to Madame Faragon more 
than once ; but that lady, though in most of the 
affairs of life her temper is gentle and kindly, 
cannot hear with equanimity an insinuation that 
any portion of her house is either dirty or un- 
sweet. Complaints have reached her that the 
beds were — well, inhabited — but no servant now 
dares to hint at anything wrong in this parti- 
cular. If this traveller or that says a word to 



48 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

her personally in complaint, she looks as sour as 
death, and declines to open her mouth in reply ; 
but when that traveller's back is turned, the 
things that Madame Faragon can say about the 
upstart coxcombry of the wretch, and as to the 
want of all real comforts which she is sure pre- 
vails in the home quarters of that ill-starred com- 
plaining traveller, are proof to those who hear 
them that the old landlady has not as yet lost all 
her energy. It need not be doubted that she 
herself religiously believes that no foul perfume 
has ever pervaded the sanctity of her chambers, 
and that no living thing has ever been seen in- 
side the sheets of her beds, except those guests 
whom she has allocated to the different rooms. 

Matters had not gone very easily with George 
Yoss in all the changes he had made during the 
last year. Some things he was obliged to do 
without consulting Madame Faragon at all. Then 
she would discover what was going on, and there 
would be a 'few words.' At other times he 
would consult her, and carry his purpose only 
after much perseverance. Twice or thrice he 
had told her that he must go away, and then 
with many groans she had acceded to his propo- 



THE GOLDEN LIOX OF GRANPERE. 49 

sitions. It had been necessary to expend two 
thousand francs in establishing the omnibus, and 
ni that affair the appearance of things had been 
at one time quite hopeless. And then when 
George had declared that the altered habits of 
the people required that the hour of the morn- 
ing table-d'hote should be changed from noon to 
one, she had sworn that she would not give way. 
She would never lend her assent to such vile 
idleness. It was already robbing the business 
portion of the day of an hour. She would wrap 
her colours round her and die upon the ground 
sooner than yield. ' Then they won't come, 5 said 
George, 'and it's no use you having the table 
then. They will all go to the Hotel de l'lmpe- 
ratrice.' This was a new house, the very men- 
tion of which was a dagger-thrust into the bosom 
of Madame Faragon. ' Then they will be poi- 
soned,' she said. 'And let them! It is what 
they are fit for.' But the change was made, and 
for the first three days she would not come out 
of her room. When the bell was rung at the 
obnoxious hour, she stopped her ears with her 
two hands. 

But though there had been these contests, 

E 



50 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

Madame Faragon had made more than one effort 
to induce George Voss to become her partner and 
successor in the house. If he would only bring 
in a small sum of money — a sum which must be 
easily within his father's reach — he should have 
half the business now, and all of it when Madame 
Paragon had gone to her rest. Or if he would 
prefer to give Madame Faragon a pension — a 
moderate pension — she would give up the house 
at once. At these tender moments she used to 
say that he probably would not begrudge her a 
room in which to die. But George Voss would 
always say that he had no money, that he could 
not ask his father for money, and that he had 
not made up his mind to settle at Colmar. Ma- 
dame Faragon, who was naturally much inter- 
ested in the matter, and was moreover not 
without curiosity, could never quite learn how 
matters stood at Granpere. A word or two she 
had heard in a circuitous way of Marie Bromar, 
but from George himself she could never learn 
anything of his affairs at home. She had asked 
him once or twice whether it would not be well 
that he should marry, but he had always replied 
that he did not think of such a thing — at any 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEEE. 51 

rate as yet. He was a steady young man, given 
more to work than to play, and apparently not 
inclined to amuse himself with the girls of the 
neighbourhood. 

One day Edmond Greisse was over at Col- 
mar — Edmond Greisse, the lad whose untidy 
appearance at the supper-table at the Lion d'Or 
had called down the rebuke of Marie Bromar. 
He had been sent over on some business by his 
employer, and had come to get his supper and 
bed at Madame Faragon's hotel. He was a 
modest, unassuming lad, and had been hardly 
more than a boy when George Yoss had left 
Granpere. From time to time George had seen 
some friend from the village, and had thus heard 
tidings from home. Once, as has been said, 
Madame Yoss had made a pilgrimage to Madame 
Faragon's establishment to visit him; but let- 
ters between the houses had not been frequent. 
Though postage in France — or shall we say 
Germany? — is now almost as low as in Eng- 
land, these people of Alsace have not yet fallen 
into the way of writing to each other when it 
occurs to any of them that a word may be said. 
Young Greisse had seen the landlady, who now 



52 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

never went upstairs among her guests, and had 
had his chamber allotted to him, and was seated 
at the supper-table, before he met George Voss. 
It was from Madame Paragon that George heard 
of his arrival. 

i There is a neighbour of yours from Gran- 
pere in the house/ said she. 

' Prom Granpere ? And who is he V 

c I forget the lad's name; but he says that 
your father is well, and Madame Voss. He goes 
back early to-morrow with the roulage and some 
goods that his people have bought. I think he 
is at supper now.' 

The place of honour at the top of the table 
at the Colmar inn was not in these days assumed 
by Madame Paragon. She had, alas, become 
too stout to do so with either grace or comfort, 
and always took her meals, as she always lived, 
in the little room downstairs, from which she 
could see, through the apertures of two doors, 
all who came in and all who went out by the 
chief entrance of the hotel. Nor had George 
usurped the place. It had now happened at 
Colmar, as it has come to pass at most hotels, 
that the public table is no longer the table-cVhote. 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 53 

The end chair was occupied by a stout, dark 
man, with a bald head and black beard, who was 
proudly filling a place different from that of his 
neighbours, and who would probably have gone 
over to the Hotel de l'Imperatrice had anybody 
disturbed him. On the present occasion George 
seated himself next to the lad, and they were 
soon discussing all the news from Granpere. 

'And how is Marie Bromar?' George asked 
at last. 

1 You have heard about her, of course,' said 
Edmoncl Greisse. 

'Heard what?' 

1 She is going to be married.' 

1 Minnie Bromar to be married ? And to 
whom ?' 

Edmond at once understood that his news 
was regarded as being important, and made the 
most of it. 

c dear, yes. It was settled last week when 
he was there.' 

1 But who is he ?' 

c Adrian Urmand, the linen - buyer from 
Basle.' 

' Marie to be married to Adrian Urmand !' 



54 THE GOLDEN LION OE GRANPERE. 

Urmand's journeys to Granpere had been 
commenced before George Yoss had left the 
place, and therefore the two young men had 
known each other. 

' They say he's very rich/ said Edmond. 

i I thought he cared for nobody but himself. 
And are you sure ? "Who told you ?' 

' I am quite sure ; but I do not know who 
told me. They are all talking about it.' 

' Did my father ever tell you ?' 

' No, he never told me.' 

< Or Marie herself?' 

' No, she did not tell me. Girls never tell 
those sort of things of themselves.' 

1 Nor Madame Yoss ?' asked George. 

1 She never talks much about anything. But 
you may be sure it's true. I'll tell you who told 
me first, and he is sure to know, because he lives 
in the house. It was Peter Yeque.' 

1 Peter Yeque, indeed ! And who do you 
think would tell him ?' 

i But isn't it quite likely ? She has grown 
to be such a beauty ! Everybody gives it to 
her that she is the prettiest girl round Granpere. 
And why shouldn't he marry her ? If I had a 



THE GOLDEN LION OE GRANPERE. 55 

lot of money, I'd only look to get the prettiest 
girl I could find anywhere.' 

After this, George said nothing farther to 
the young man as to the marriage. If it was 
talked about as Edmond said, it was probably 
true. And why should it not be true ? Even 
though it were true, no one would have cared 
to tell him. She might have been married 
twice over, and no one in Granpere would 
have sent him word. So he declared to him- 
self. And yet Marie Bromar had once sworn 
to him that she loved him, and would be his 
for ever and ever; and, though he had left her 
in dudgeon, with black looks, without a kind 
word of farewell, yet he had believed her. 
Through all his sojourn at Colmar he had told 
himself that she would be true to him. He 
believed it, though he was hardly sure of him- 
self — had hardly resolved that he would ever 
go back to Granpere to seek her. His father 
had turned him out of the house, and Marie 
had told him as he went that she would never 
marry him if her uncle disapproved it. Slight 
as her word had been on that morning of his 
departure, it had rankled in his bosom, and 



56 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

made him angry with her through a whole 
twelvemonth. And yet he had believed that 
she would be true to him ! 

He went out in the evening when it was 
dusk and walked round and round the public 
garden of Colmar, thinking of the news which 
he had heard — the public garden, in which 
stands the statue of General Eapp. It was p, 
terrible blow to him. Though he had remained 
a whole year in Colmar without seeing Marie, 
or hearing of her, without hardly ever having 
had her name upon his lips, without even 
having once assured himself during the whole 
time that the happiness of his life would depend 
on the girl's constancy to him, — now that he 
heard that she was to be married to another 
man, he was torn to pieces by anger and regret. 
He had sworn to love her, and had never even 
spoken a word of tenderness to another girl. 
She had given him her plighted troth, and 
now she was prepared to break it with the 
first man who asked her ! As he thought of 
this, his brow became black with anger. But 
his regrets were as violent. What a fool he 
had been to leave her there, open to persuasion 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPEBE. O I 

from any man who came in the way, open to 
persuasion from his father, who would, of course, 
be his enemy. How, indeed, could he expect 
that she should be true to him ? The year 
had been long enough to him, but it must 
have been doubly long to her. He had ex- 
pected that his father would send for him, would 
write to him, would at least transmit to him 
some word that would make him know that his 
presence was again desired at Granpere. But 
his father had been as proud as he was, and 
had not sent any such message. Or rather, 
perhaps, the father being older and less im- 
patient, had thought that a temporary absence 
from Granpere might be good for his son. 

It was late at night when George Voss went 
to bed, but he was up in the morning early to 
see Edmond Greisse before the roulage should 
start for Mtinster on its road to Granpere. Early 
times in that part of the world are very early, 
and the roulage was ready in the back court of 
the inn at half-past four in the morning. 

'What? you up at this hour?' said Ed- 
mond. 

c "Why not ? It is not every day we have a 



58 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

friend here from Granpere, so I thought I would 
see you off.' 

1 That is kind of you.' 

1 Give my love to them at the old house, 
Edmond.' 

' Of course I will.' 

' To father, and Madame Voss, and the chil- 
dren, and to Marie.' 

< All right.' 

c Tell Marie that you have told me of her 
marriage.' 

' I don't know whether she'll like to talk 
about that to me.' 

' Never mind ; you tell her. She won't bite 
you. Tell her also that I shall be over at Gran- 
pere soon to see her and the rest of them. I'll 
be over — as soon as ever I can get away.' 

< Shall I tell your father that ?' 

' No. Tell Marie, and let her tell my fa- 
ther.' 

1 And when will you come ? We shall all be 
so glad to see you.' 

' Never you mind that. You just give my 
message. Come in for a moment to the kitchen. 
There's a cup of coffee for you and a slice of 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GBANPERE. 59 

ham. We are not going to let an old friend 
like you go away without breaking his fast.' 

As Greisse had already paid his modest bill, 
amounting altogether to little more than three 
francs, this was kind of the young landlord, and 
while he was eating his bread and ham he pro- 
mised faithfully that he would give the message 
just as George had given it to him. 

It was on the third day after the departure 
of Edmond Greisse that George told Madame 
Faragon that he was going home. 

' Going where, George ?' said Madame Fara- 
gon, leaning forward on the table before her, and 
looking like a picture of despair. 

' To Granpere, Madame Faragon.' 

1 To Granpere ! and why ? and when ? and how? 
dear ! Why did you not tell me before, child ¥ 

i I told you as soon as I knew.' 

4 But you are not going yet ?' 

< On Monday.' 

i dear ! So soon as that ! Lord bless me ! 
We can't do anything before Monday. And 
when will you be back ?' 

' I cannot say with certainty. I shall not be 
long, I daresay.' 



60 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

' And have they sent for you ?' 

' No, they have not sent for me, but I want 
to see them once again. And I must make up 
my mind what to do for the future.' 

1 Don't leave me, George ; pray do not leave 
me !' exclaimed Madame Faragon. c You shall 
have the business now if you choose to take 
it — only pray don't leave me !' 

George explained that at any rate he would 
not desert her now at once ; and on the Monday 
named he started for Granpere. He had not 
been very quick in his action, for a week had 
passed since he had given Edmond Greisse his 
breakfast in the hotel kitchen. 



CHAPTEE IY. 

Adrian Urmand had been three days gone from 
Granpere before Michel Voss found a fitting 
opportunity for talking to his niece. It was 
not a matter, as he thought, in which there 
was need for any great hurry, but there was 
need for much consideration. Once again he 
spoke on the subject to his wife. 

i If she's thinking about George, she has kept 
it very much to herself,' he remarked. 

' Girls do keep it to themselves,' said Madame 
Yoss. 

c I'm not so sure of that. They generally 
show it somehow. Marie never looks lovelorn. 
I don't believe a bit of it ; and as for him, all 
the time he has been away he has never so 
much as sent a word of a message to one of us.' 

1 He sent his love to you, when I saw him, 
quite dutifully,' said Madame Yoss. 



62 THE GOLDEN LION OF GKANPERE. 

i "Why don't he come and see us if he cares 
for us ? It isn't of him that Marie is thinking.' 

' It isn't of anybody else then,' said Madame 
Yoss. ' I never see her speak a word to any of 
the young men, nor one of them ever speaking 
a word to her.' 

Pondering over all this, Michel Yoss resolved 
that he would have it all out with his niece on 
the following Sunday. 

On the Sunday he engaged Marie to start 
with him after dinner to the place on the hill- 
side where they were cutting wood. It was a 
beautiful autumn afternoon, in that pleasantest 
of all months in the year, when the sun is not 
too hot, and the air is fresh and balmy, and one 
is still able to linger abroad, loitering either in 
or out of the shade, when the midges cease to 
bite, and the sun no longer scorches and glares ; 
but the sweet vestiges of summer remain, and 
everything without doors is pleasant and friendly, 
and there is the gentle unrecognised regret for 
the departing year, the unconscious feeling that 
its glory is going from us, to add the inner 
charm of a soft melancholy to the outer luxury 
of the atmosphere. I doubt whether Michel Yoss 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPEEE. 63 

had ever realised the fact that September is the 
kindliest of all the months, but he felt it, and 
enjoyed the leisure of his Sunday afternoon when 
he could get his niece to take a stretch with 
him on the mountain-side. On these occasions 
Madame Yoss was left at home with M. le Cure, 
who liked to linger over his little cup of coffee. 
Madame Yoss, indeed, seldom cared to walk very 
far from the door of her own house ; and on 
Sundays to go to the church and back again 
was certainly sufficient exercise. 

Michel Yoss said no word about Adrian Ur- 
mand as they were ascending the hill. He was 
too wise for that. He could not have given 
effect to his experience with sufficient eloquence 
had he attempted the task while the burden of 
the rising ground was upon his lungs and chest. 
They turned into a saw -mill as they went up, 
and counted the scantlings of timber that had 
been cut; and Michel looked at the cradle to 
see that it worked well, and to the wheels to 
see that they were in good order, and observed 
that the channel for the water required repairs, 
and said a word as to the injury that had come 
to him because George had left him. ' Perhaps 



64 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

he may come back soon/ said Marie. To this 
he made no answer, but continued his path up 
the mountain - side. l There will be plenty of 
feed for the cows this autumn,' said Marie Bro- 
mar. ' That is a great comfort.' 

' Plenty,' said Michel; ' plenty.' But Marie 
knew from the tone of his voice that he was not 
thinking about the grass, and so she held her 
peace. But the want or plenty of the pasture 
was generally a subject of the greatest interest 
to the people of Granpere at that special time of 
the year, and one on which Michel Yoss was 
ever ready to speak. Marie therefore knew that 
there was something on her Uncle's mind. Never- 
theless he inspected the timber that was cut, and 
made some remarks about the work of the men. 
They were not so careful in barking the logs as 
they used to be, and upon the whole he thought 
that the wood itself was of a worse quality. 
"What is there that we do not find to be deterio- 
rating around us when we consider the things 
in detail, though we are willing enough to admit 
a general improvement ? ' Yes,' said he, in answer 
to some remarks from Marie, ' we must take it, 
no doubt, as God gives it to us, but we need not 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPERE. 63 

spoil it in the handling. Sit down, my dear ; I 
want to speak to you for a few minutes.' Then 
they sat down together on a large prostrate pine, 
which was being prepared to be sent down to 
the saw-mill. l My dear/ said he, ' I want to 
speak to you about Adrian Urmancl.' She blushed 
and trembled as she placed herself beside him ; 
but he hardly noticed it. He was not quite at 
his ease himself, and was a little afraid of the 
task he had undertaken. i Adrian tells me that 
he asked you to take him as your lover, and that 
you refused.' 

' Yes, Uncle Michel.' 

' But why, my dear ? How are you to do 
better? Perhaps I, or your aunt, should have 
spoken to you first, and told you that we 
thought well of the match.' 

' It wasn't that, uncle. I knew you thought 
well of it; or, at least, I believed that you 
did.' 

1 And what is your objection, Marie V 

'I don't object to M. Urmand, uncle; — at 
least, not particularly.' 

1 But he says you do object. You would not 
accept him when he offered himself.' 



OG the golden lion oe gkanpere. 

1 No ; I did not accept him.' 

i But you will, my dear, — if he comes again ?' 

i No, uncle.' 

' And why not ? Is he not a good young 
man?' 

1 0, yes, — that is, I daresay.' 

1 And he has a good business. I do not know 
what more you could expect.' 

' I expect nothing, uncle, — except not to go 
away from you.' 

'Ah, — but you must go away from me. I 
should be very wrong, and so would your aunt, 
to let you remain here till you lose your good 
looks, and become an old woman on our hands. 
You are a pretty girl, Marie, and fit to be any 
man's wife, and you ought to take a husband. 
I am quite in earnest now, my dear ; and I speak 
altogether for your own welfare.' 

' I know you are in earnest, and I know 
that you speak for my welfare.' 

* Well ; — well ; — what then ? Of course, it 
is only reasonable that you should be married 
some day. Here is a young man in a better 
way of business than any man, old or young, 
that comes into Granpere. He has a house in 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEEE. 67 

Basle, and money to pnt in it whatever yon 
want. And for the matter of that, Marie, my 
niece shall not go away from me empty-handed.' 

She drew herself closer to him and took 
hold of his arm and pressed it, and looked np 
into his face. 

' I brought nothing with me/ she said, ' and 
I want to take nothing away.' 

c Is that it ?' he said, speaking rapidly. l Let 
me tell yon then, my girl, that yon shall have 
nothing bnt yonr earnings, — yonr fair earnings. 
Don't yon take tronble about that. Urmand and 
I will settle that between ns, and I will go bail 
there shall be no unpleasant words. As I said 
before, my girl sha'n't leave my house empty- 
handed ; but, Lord bless you, he would only be 
too happy to take you in your petticoat, — just 
as you are. I never saw a fellow more in love 
with a girl. Come, Marie, you need not mind 
saying the word to me, though you could not 
bring yourself to say it to him.' 

i I can't say that word, uncle, either to you 
or to him.' 

< And why the devil not?' said Michel Yoss, 
who was beginning to be tired of being eloquent. 



68 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

c I would rather stay at home with you and 
my aunt.' 

' 0, bother !' 

' Some girls stay at home always. All girls do 
not get married. I don't want to be taken to Basle.' 

'This is all nonsense,' said Michel, getting 
up. ' If you're a good girl, you will do as you 
are told.' 

'It would not be good to be married to a 
man if I do not love him.' 

'But why shouldn't you love him? He's 
just the man that all the girls always love. Why 
don't you love him ? 

As Michel Yoss asked this last question, 
there was a tone of anger in his voice. He had 
allowed his niece considerable liberty, and now 
she was unreasonable. Marie, who, in spite of 
her devotion to her uncle, was beginning to 
think that she was ill-used by this tone, made 
no reply. ' I hope you haven't been falling in 
love with any one else,' continued Michel. 

' No,' said Marie, in a low whisper. 

' I do hope you're not still thinking of George, 
who has left us without casting a thought upon 
you. I do hope that you are not such a fool as 



TEE GOLDEN LION OF GKANPERE. 69 

that.' Marie sat perfectly silent, not moving; 
but there was a frown on her brow and a look 
of sorrow mixed with anger on her face. But 
Michel Yoss did not see her face. He looked 
straight before him as he spoke, and was fling- 
ing chips of wood to a distance in his energy. 
' If it's that, Marie, I tell you you had better 
get quit of it at once. It can come to no good. 
Here is an excellent husband for you. Be a 
good girl, and say that you will accept him.' 

■ I should not be a good girl to accept a man 
whom I do not love.' 

i Is it any thought about George that makes 
you say so, child ?' Michel paused a moment for 
an answer. l Tell me,' he continued, with almost 
angry energy, ' is it because of George that you 
refuse yourself to this young man ?' 

Marie paused again for a moment, and then 
she replied, 'No, it is not.' 

'It is not?' 

'No, uncle.' 

1 Then why will you not marry Adrian Ur- 
mand ?' 

' Because I do not care for him. Why won't 
you let me remain with you, uncle ?' 



70 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

She was very close to him now, and leaning 
against him; and her throat was half choked 
with sobs, and her eyes were full of tears. Michel 
Yoss was a soft-hearted man, and inclined to be 
very soft of heart where Marie Bromar was con- 
cerned. On the other hand he was thoroughly 
convinced that it would be for his niece's bene- 
fit that she should marry this young trader; 
and he thought also that it was his duty as her 
uncle and guardian to be round with her, and 
make her understand, that as her friends wished 
it, and as the young trader himself wished it, it 
was her duty to do as she was desired. Another 
uncle and guardian in his place would hardly 
have consulted the girl at all. Between his de- 
sire to have his own way and reduce her to 
obedience, and the temptation to put his arm 
round her waist and kiss away her tears, he 
was uneasy and vacillating. She gently put 
her hand within his arm, and pressed it very 
close. 

' Won't you let me remain with you, uncle ? 
I love you and Aunt Josey' (Madame Yoss was 
named Josephine, and was generally called Aunt 
Josey) ' and the children. I could not go away 



THE GOLDEN LION OE GRANPERE. 71 

from the children. And I like the house, I am 
sure I am of use in the house.' 

c Of course you are of use in the house. It 
is not that.' 

' Why, then, should you want to send me 
away ?' 

' What nonsense you talk, Marie ! Don't you 
know that a young woman like you ought to he 
married some day — that is if she can get a fitting 
man to take her ? What would the neighbours 
say of me if we kept you at home to drudge for 
us, instead of settling you out in the world pro- 
perly ? You forget, Marie, that I have a duty 
to perform, and you should not make it so diffi- 
cult,' 

' But if I don't want to be settled ?' said 
Marie. { Who cares for the neighbours ? If you 
and I understand each other, is not that enough?' 

' I care for the neighbours,' said Michel Yoss 
with energy. 

' And must I marry a man I don't care a bit 
for, because of the neighbours, Uncle Michel?' 
asked Marie, with something approaching to in- 
dignation in her voice. 

Michel Yoss perceived that it was of no use 



2 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 



for him to carry on the argument. He enter- 
tained a half-formed idea that he did not quite 
understand the objections so strongly urged by 
his niece; that there was something on her 
mind that she would not tell him, and that 
there might be cruelty in urging the matter 
upon her; but, in opposition to this, there was 
his assured conviction that it was his duty to 
provide well and comfortably for his niece, and 
that it was her duty to obey him in acceding 
to such provision as he might make. And then 
this marriage was undoubtedly a good mar- 
riage — a match that would make ail the world 
declare how well Michel Yoss had done for the 
girl whom he had taken under his protection. 
It was a marriage that he could not bear to see 
go out of the family. It was not probable that 
the young linen-merchant, who was so well to 
do in the world, and who, no doubt, might have 
his choice in larger places than Granpere — it 
was not probable, Michel thought, that he 
would put up with many refusals. The girl 
would lose her chance, unless he, by his firm- 
ness, could drive this folly out of her. And 
yet how could he be firm, when he was tempted 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GKANPERE. / O 

to throw his great arms about her, and swear 
that she should eat of his bread and drink of 
his cup, and be unto him as a daughter, till the 
last day of their joint existence. When she 
crept so close to him and pressed his arm, he 
was almost overcome by the sweetness of her 
love and by the tenderness of his own heart. 

'It seems to me that you don't understand,' 
he said at last. ' I didn't think that such a 
girl as you would be so silly.' 

To this she made no reply; and then they 
began to walk down the hill together. 

They had walked half way home, he step- 
ping a little in advance, — because he was still 
angry with her, or angry rather with himself 
in that he could not bring himself to scold her 
properly,— and she following close behind his 
shoulder, when he stopped suddenly and asked 
her a question which came from the direction 
his thoughts were taking at the moment. ' You 
are sure,' he said, 'that you are not doing this 
because you expect George to come back to you ?' 

' Quite sure,' she said, bearing forward a 
moment, and answering him in a whisper when 
she spoke. 



i 4 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

'By my word, then, I can't understand it. 
I can't indeed. Has Urmand clone anything to 
offend you ?' 

'Nothing, uncle.' 

' Nor said anything ?' 

'Not a word, uncle. I am not offended. 
Of course I am much obliged to him. Only I 
don't love him.' 

' By my faith I don't understand it. I don't 
indeed. It is sheer nonsense, and you must 
get over it. I shouldn't be doing my duty if 
I didn't tell you that you must get over it. He 
will be here again in another ten days, and you 
must have thought better of it by that time. 
You must indeed, Marie.' 

Then they walked down the hill in silence 
together, each thinking intently on the purpose 
of the other, but each altogether misunderstand- 
ing the other. Michel Voss was assured — as she 
had twice implied as much — that she was altogether 
indifferent to his son George. What he might 
have said or clone had she declared her affec- 
tion for her absent lover, he did not himself 
know. He had not questioned himself on that 
point. Though his wife had told him that 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 75 

Marie was ever thinking of George, he had not 
believed that it was so. He had no reason for 
disliking a marriage between his son and his 
wife's niece. When he had first thought that 
they were going to be lovers, under his nose, 
without his permission, — going to commence a 
new kind of life between themselves without 
so much as a word spoken to him or by him, 
— he had found himself compelled to interfere, 
compelled as a father and an uncle. That kind 
of thing could never be allowed to take place 
in a well-ordered house without the expressed 
sanction of the head of the household. He had 
interfered, — rather roughly ; and his son had 
taken him at his word. He was sore now at 
his son's coldness to him, and was disposed to 
believe that his son cared not at all for any one 
at Granpere. His niece was almost as dear to 
him as his son, and much more dutiful. There- 
fore he would do the best he could for his niece. 
Marie's declaration that George was nothing to 
her, — that she did not think of him, — was in 
accordance with his own ideas. His wife had 
been wrong. His wife was usually wrong when 
any headwork was required. There could be 



76 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

no good reason why Marie Bromar should not 
marry Adrian Urmand. 

But Marie, as she knew very well, had 
never declared that George Yoss was nothing 
to her, — that he was forgotten, or that her heart 
was free. He had gone from her and had for- 
gotten her. She was quite sure of that. And 
should she ever hear that he was married to 
some one else, — as it was probable that she 
would hear some day, — then she would be free 
again. Then she might take this man or that, 
if her friends wished it — and if she could bring 
herself to endure the proposed marriage. But 
at present her troth was plighted to George 
Yoss; and where her troth was given, there 
was her heart also. She could understand that 
such a circumstance, affecting one of so little 
importance as herself, should be nothing to a 
man like her uncle; but it was everything to 
her. George had forgotten her, and she had 
wept sorely over his want of constancy. But 
though telling herself that this certainly was 
so, she had declared to herself that she would 
never be untrue till her want of truth had been 
put beyond the reach of doubt. Who does not 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 77 

know how hope remains, when reason has de- 
clared that there is no longer ground for hoping ? 

Such had been the state of her mind hitherto; 
but what would be the good of entertaining 
hope, even if there were ground for hoping, 
when, as was so evident, her uncle would never 
permit George and her to be man and wife ? 
And did she not owe everything to her uncle? 
And was it not the duty of a girl to obey her 
guardian ? Would not all the world be against 
her if she refused this man ? Her mind was 
tormented by a thousand doubts, when her uncle 
said another word to her, just as they were 
entering the village. 

< You will try and think better of it ; — will 
you not, my dear ?' She was silent. c Come, 
Marie, you can say that you will try. Will 
you not try ?' 

1 Yes, uncle, — I will try.' 

Michel Yoss went home in a good humour, 
for he felt that he had triumphed; and poor 
Marie returned broken - hearted, for she was 
aware that she had half-yielded. She knew that 
her uncle was triumphant. 



CHAPTEE Y. 

When Eclmond Greisse was back at Granpere 
lie well remembered bis message, but be bad 
some doubt as to tbe expediency of delivering 
it. He had to reflect in tbe first place whether 
he was quite sure that matters were arranged 
between Marie and Adrian Urmand. The story 
had been told to him as being certainly true 
by Peter the waiter. 4-nd he had discussed 
the matter with other young men, his associ- 
ates in the place, among all of whom it was 
believed that Urmand was certainly about to 
carry away the young woman with whom they 
were all more or less in love. But when, on 
his return to Granpere, he had asked a few 
more questions, and had found that even Peter 
was now in doubt on a point as to which he 
had before been so sure, he began to think that 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 79 

there would be some difficulty in giving his 
message. He was not without some little fear 
of Marie, and hesitated to tell her that he had 
spread the report about her marriage. So he 
contented himself with simply announcing to 
her that George Voss intended to visit his old 
home. 

' Does my uncle know ?' Marie asked. 

1 Ko ; — you are to tell him,' said Greisse. 

' I am to tell him ! Why should I tell him ? 
You can tell him.' 

' But George said that I was to let you 
know, and that you would tell your uncle.' 
This was quite unintelligible to Marie ; but it 
was clear to her that she could make no such 
announcement, after the conversation which she 
had had with her uncle. It was quite out of 
the question that she should be the first to an- 
nounce George's return, when she had been 
twice warned on that Sunday afternoon not to 
think of him. i You had better let my uncle 
know yourself,' she said, as she walked away. 
But young Greisse, knowing that he was already 
in trouble, and feeling that he might very pro- 
bably make it worse, held his peace. When 



80 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

therefore one morning George Yoss showed him- 
self at the door of the inn, neither his father 
nor Madame Yoss expected him. 

But his father was kind to him, and his 
mother-in-law hovered round him with demon- 
strations of love and gratitude, as though much 
were due to him for coming back at all. ' But 
you expected me,' said George. 

' No, indeed,' said his father. ' We did not 
expect you now any more than on any other 
day since you left us.' 

' I sent word by Edmond Greisse,' said 
George. Edmond was interrogated, and de- 
clared that he had forgotten to give the mess- 
age. George was too clever to pursue the mat- 
ter any farther, and when he first met Marie 
Broniar, there w^as not a word said between 
them beyond what might have been said be- 
tween any young persons so related, after an 
absence of twelve months. George Yoss was 
very careful to make no demonstration of affec- 
tion for a girl who had forgotten him, and who 
was now, as he believed, betrothed to another 
man ; and Marie was determined that certainly 
no sign of the old love should first be shown 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRAtfPERE. SI 

by her. He had come back, — perhaps just in 
time. He had returned just at the moment 
in which something must be decided. She had 
felt how much there was in the little word 
which she had spoken to her uncle. When a 
girl says that she will try to reconcile herself 
to a man's overtures, she has almost yielded. 
The word had escaped her without any such 
meaning on her part, — had been spoken because 
she had feared to continue to contradict her 
uncle in the full completeness of a positive re- 
fusal. She had regretted it as soon as it had 
been spoken, but she could not recall it. She 
had seen in her uncle's eye and had heard in 
the tone of his voice for how much that word 
had been taken; — but it had gone forth from 
her mouth, and she could not now rob it of its 
meaning. Adrian TJrmancl was to be back at 
Granpere in a few days — in ten days Michel 
Voss had said; and there were those ten days 
for her in which to resolve what she would do. 
Now, as though sent from heaven, George had 
returned, in this very interval of time. Might 
it not be that he would help her out of her 
difficulty ? If he would only tell her to remain 

Gt 



82 THE GOLDEN LION OE GEANPEKE. 

single for his sake, she would certainly turn 
her back upon her Swiss lover, let her uncle 
say what he might. She would make no en- 
gagement with George unless with her uncle's 
sanction ; but a word, a look of love, would for- 
tify her against that other marriage. 

George, she thought, had come back a man 
more to be worshipped than ever, as far as ap- 
pearance went. What woman could doubt for 
a moment between two such men ? Adrian 
Urmand was no doubt a pretty man, with black 
hair, of which he was very careful, with white 
hands, with bright small dark eyes which were 
very close together, with a thin regular nose, 
a small mouth, and a black moustache, which 
he was always pointing with his fingers. It 
was impossible to deny that he was good-look- 
ing after a fashion ; but Marie despised him in 
her heart. She was almost bigger than he was, 
certainly stronger, and had no aptitude for the 
city niceness and point - device fastidiousness of 
such a lover. George Yoss had come back, not 
taller than when he had left them, but broader 
in the shoulders, and more of a man. And 
then he had in his eye, and in his beaked nose, 



THE GOLDEN LIOX OF GRANPERE. 3D 

and his large mouth, and well-developed chin, 
that look of command, which was the peculiar 
character of his father's face, and which women, 
who judge of men by their feelings rather than 
their thoughts, always love to see. Marie, if 
she would consent to marry Adrian Urmand, 
might probably have her own way in the house 
in everything; whereas it was certain enough 
that George Yoss, wherever he might be, would 
desire to have his way. But yet there needed 
not a moment, in Marie's estimation, to choose 
between the two. George Yoss was a real 
man; whereas Adrian Urmand, tried by such a 
comparison, was in her estimation simply a rich 
trader in want of a wife. 

In a day or two the fatted calf was killed, 
and all went happily between George and his 
father. They walked together up into the moun- 
tains, and looked after the wood-cutting, and 
discussed the prospects of the inn at Colmar. 
Michel was disposed to think that George had 
better remain at Colmar, and accept Madame 
Paragon's offer. ' If you think that the house is 
worth anything, I will give you a few thousand 
francs to set it in order ; and then you had better 



84 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

agree to allow her so much a year for her life.' 
He probably felt himself to be nearly as young a 
man as his son; and then remember too that he 
had other sons coming up, who would be able to 
carry on the house at Granpere when he should 
be past his work. Michel was a loving, gener- 
ous-hearted man, and all feeling of anger with 
his son was over before they had been together 
two days. c You can't do better, George,' he said. 
'You need not always stay away from us for 
twelve months, and I might take a turn over the 
mountain, and get a lesson as to how you do 
things at Colmar. If ten thousand francs will 
help you, you shall have them. Will that make 
things go straight with you?' George Yoss 
thought the sum named would make things go 
very straight; but as the reader knows, he had 
another matter near to his heart. He thanked 
his father ; but not in the joyous thoroughly con- 
tented tone that Michel had expected. ' Is there 
anything wrong about it ?' Michel said in that 
sharp tone which he used when something had 
jsuddenly displeased him. 

i There is nothing wrong ; nothing wrong at 
all,' said George slowly. ' The money is much 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPEEE. S5 

more than I could have expected. Indeed I did 
not expect any.' 

< What is it then ?' 

' I was thinking of something else. Tell me, 
father ; is it true that Marie is going to be mar- 
ried to Adrian Urmand ?' 

1 What makes you ask ?' 

£ I heard a report of it/ said George. ' Is it 
true?' 

The father reflected a moment what answer 
he should give. It did not seem to him that 
George spoke of such a marriage as though the 
rumour of it had made him unhappy. The ques- 
tion had been asked almost with indifference. 
And then the young man's manner to Marie, and 
Marie's manner to him, during the last two days 
had made him certain that he had been right in 
supposing that they had both forgotten the little 
tenderness of a year ago. And Michel had 
thoroughly made up his mind that it would be 
well that Marie should marry Adrian. He be- 
lieved that he had already vanquished Marie's 
scruples. She had promised 'to try and think 
better of it,' before George's return; and there- 
fore was he not justified in regarding the matter 



86 THE G0LDEX LION OF GRAXPERE. 

as almost settled ? ' I think that they will be 
married,' said he to his son. 

' Then there is something in it ?' 

' 0, yes ; there is a great deal in it. Urmand 
is very eager for it, and has asked me and her 
aunt, and we have consented.' 

1 But has he asked her ?' 

1 Yes ; he has done that too,' said Michel. 

' And what answer did he get ?' 

1 Well ; — I don't know that it would be fair 
to tell that. Marie is not a girl likely to jump 
into a man's arms at the first word. But I think 
there is no doubt that they will be betrothed 
before Sunday week. He is to be here again on 
Wednesday.' 

1 She likes him, then ?' 

i 0, yes ; of course she likes him.' Michel 
Yoss had not intended to say a word that was 
false. He was anxious to do the best in his 
power for both his son and his niece. He thor- 
oughly understood that it was his duty as a 
father and a guardian to start them well in the 
world, to do all that he could for their prosperity, 
to feed their wants with his money, as a pelican - 
feeds her young with blood from her bosom. 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 87 

Had he known the hearts of each of them, could 
he have understood Marie's constancy, or the 
obstinate silent strength of his son's disposition, 
he would have let Adrian Urmand, with his 
business and his house at Basle, seek a wife 
in any other quarter where he listed, and would 
have joined together the hands of these two 
whom he loved, with a paternal blessing. But 
he did not understand. He thought that he saw 
everything when he saw nothing; — and now he 
was deceiving his son ; for it was untrue that 
Marie had any such ' liking' for Adrian Urmand 
as that of which George had spoken. 

• It is as good as settled, then ?' said George, 
not showing by any tone of his voice the anxiety 
with which the question w^as asked. 

'I think it is as good as settled,' Michel 
answered. Before they got back to the inn, 
George had thanked his father for his liberal 
offer, had declared that he would accede to Ma- 
dame Faragon's proposition, and had made his 
father understand that he must return to Colmar 
on the next Monday, — two days before that on 
which Urmand was expected at Granpere. 

The Monday came, and hitherto there had 



8S THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

been no word of explanation between George 
and Marie. Every one in the house knew that 
he was abont to return to Colniar, and every 
one in the house knew that he had been entirely 
reconciled to his father. Madame Yoss had 
asked some question about him and Marie, and 
had been assured by her husband that there was 
nothing in that suspicion. ' I told you from the 
beginning/ said he, 'that there was nothing of 
that sort. I only wish that George would think 
of marrying some one, now that he is to have a 
large house of his own over his head.' 

George had determined a dozen times that 
he would, and a dozen times that he would not, 
speak to Marie about her coming marriage, 
changing his mind as often as it was formed. 
Of what use was it to speak to her ? he would 
say to himself. Then again he would resolve 
that he would scorch her false heart by one 
withering word before he went. Chance at last 
arranged it for him. Before he started he found 
himself alone with her for a moment, and it was 
almost impossible that he should not say some- 
thing. Then he did speak. 

'They tell me you are going to be mar- 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 89 

ried, Marie. I hope you will be happy and 
prosperous.' 

1 Who tells you so ?' 

i It is true at any rate, I suppose.' 

I Not that I know of. If my uncle and aunt 
choose to dispose of me, I cannot help it.' 

' It is well for girls to be disposed of some- 
times. It saves them a world of trouble.' 

I I don't know what you mean by that, 
George ; — whether it is intended to be ill-na- 
tured.' 

4 No, indeed. Why should I be ill-natured 
to you? I heartily wish you to be well and 
happy. I daresay M. Urmand will make you 
a good husband. Good-bye, Marie. I shall be 
off in a few minutes. Will you not say fare- 
well to me ?' 

1 Farewell, George.' 

' We used to be friends, Marie.' 

1 Yes ; — we used to be friends.' 

'And I have never forgotten the old days. 
I will not promise to come to your marriage, 
because it would not make either of us happy, 
but I shall wish you well. God bless you, Marie.' 
Then he put his arm round her and kissed her, 



90 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

as he might have done to a sister, — as it was 
natural that he should do to Marie Bromar, re- 
garding her as a cousin. She did not speak a 
word more, and then he was gone ! 

She had been quite unable to tell him the 
truth. The manner in which he had first ad- 
dressed her made it impossible for her to tell 
him that she was not engaged to marry Adrian 
Urmand, — that she was determined, if possible, 
to avoid the marriage, and that she had no love 
for Adrian Urmand. Had she clone so, she 
would in so doing have asked him to come back 
to her. That she should do this was impossible. 
And yet as he left her, some suspicion of the 
truth, some half-formecl idea of the real state of 
the man's mind in reference to her, flashed 
across her own. She seemed to feel that she 
was specially unfortunate, but she felt at the 
same time that there was no means within her 
reach of setting things right. And she was as 
convinced as ever she had been, that her uncle 
would never give his consent to a marriage be- 
tween her and George Voss. As for George him- 
self, he left her with an assured conviction that 
she was the promised bride of Adrian Urmand. 



CHAPTEE YI. 

The world seemed very hard to Marie Bromar 
when she was left alone. Though there were 
many who loved her, of whose real affection she 
had no doubt, there was no one to whom she 
could go for assistance. Her uncle in this 
matter was her enemy, and her aunt was com- 
pletely under her uncle's guidance. Madame 
Yoss spoke to her often in these days of the 
coming of Adrian Urmand, but the manner of 
her speaking was such that no comfort could be 
taken from it. Madame Yoss would risk an 
opinion as to the room which the young man 
ought to occupy, and the manner in which he 
should be fed and entertained. For it was 
thoroughly understood that he was coming on 
this occasion as a lover and not as a trader, and 
that he was coming as the guest of Michel Yoss, 
and not as a customer to the inn. i I suppose 



92 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

he can take his supper like the other people/ 
Marie said to her aunt. And again, when the 
question of wine was mooted, she was almost 
saucy. ' If he's thirsty,' she said, 'what did for 
him last week, will do for him next week : and 
if he's not thirsty, he had better leave it alone.' 
But girls are always allowed to be saucy about 
their lovers, and Madame Yoss did not count 
this for much. 

Marie was always thinking of those last 
words which had been spoken between her and 
George, and of the kiss that he had given her. 
' "We used to be friends,' he had said, and then 
he had declared that he had never forgotten old 
days. Marie was quick, intelligent, and ready 
to perceive at half a glance, — to understand at 
half a word, as is the way with clever women. 
A thrill had gone through her as she heard the 
tone of the young man's voice, and she had half 
told herself all the truth. He had not quite 
ceased to think of her. Then he went, without 
saying the other one word that would have been 
needful, without even looking the truth into her 
face. He had gone, and had plainly given her 
to understand that he acceded to this marriage 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. Uo 

with Adrian Urmaiid. How was she to read it 
all? Was there more than one way in which 
a wounded woman, so sore at heart, could read 
it ? He had told her that though he loved her 
still, it did not suit him to trouble himself with 
her as a wife; and that he would throw upon 
her head the guilt of having been false to their 
old vows. Though she loved him better than 
all the world, she despised him for his thought- 
ful treachery. In her eyes it was treachery. 
He must have known the truth. What right 
had he to suppose that she would be false to 
him, — he, who had never known her to lie to 
him ? And was it not his business, as a man, to 
speak some word, to ask some question, by which, 
if he doubted, the truth might be made known 
to him ? She, a woman, could ask no question. 
She could speak no word. She could not renew 
her assurances to him, till he should have asked 
her to renew them. He was either false, or a 
traitor, or a coward. She was very angry with 
him ; — so angry that she was almost driven by 
her anger to throw herself into Adrian's arms. 
She was the more angry because she was full 
sure that he had not forgotten his old love, — 



94 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

that his heart was not altogether changed. Had 
it appeared to her that the sweet words of former 
days had vanished from his memory, though 
they had clung to hers, — that he had in truth 
learned to look upon his Granpere experiences 
as the simple doings of his boyhood, — her pride 
would have been hurt, but she would have been 
angry with herself rather than with him. But 
it had not been so. The respectful silence of his 
sojourn in the house had told her that it was 
not so. The tremor in his voice as he reminded 
her that they once had been friends had plainly 
told her that it was not so. He had acknow- 
ledged that they had been betrothed, and that 
the plight between them was still strong; but, 
wishing to be quit of it, he had thrown the 
burden of breaking it upon her. 

She was very wretched, but she did not go 
about the house with downcast eyes or humble 
looks, or sit idle in a corner with her hands 
before her. She was quick and eager in the 
performance of her work, speaking sharply to 
those who came in contact with her. Peter 
Yequc, her chief minister, had but a poor time 
of it in these days ; and she spoke an angry 



THE GOLDEN LION OE GEANPERE. 95 

word or two to Edmond Greisse. She had, in 
truth, spoken no words to Edmond Greisse that 
were not angry since that ill- starred communi- 
cation of which he had only given her the half. 
To her aunt she was brusque, and almost ill- 
mannered. 

' What is the matter with you, Marie ?' 
Madame Voss said to her one morning, when 
she had been snubbed rather rudely by her 
niece. Marie in answer shook her head and 
shrugged her shoulders. ' If you cannot put on 
a better look before M. Urmand comes, I think 
he will hardly hold to his bargain,' said Madame 
Voss, who was angry. 

'Who wants him to hold to his bargain?' 
said Marie sharply. Then feeling ill-inclined to 
discuss the matter with her aunt, she left the 
room. Madame Yoss, who had been assured by 
her husband that Marie had no real objection to 
Adrian Urmand, did not understand it all. 

'lam sure Marie is unhappy,' she said to 
her husband when he came in at noon that day. 

'Yes,' said he. 'It seems strange, but it is 
so, I fancy, with the best of our young women. 
Her feeling of modesty — of bashfulness if you 



96 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

will — is outraged by being told that she is to 
admit this man as her lover. She won't make 
the worse wife on that account, when he gets 
her home.' 

Madame Yoss was not quite sure that her 
husband was right. She had not before observed 
young women to be made savage in their daily 
w^ork by the outrage to their modesty of an 
acknowledged lover. But, as usual, she sub- 
mitted to her husband. Had she not done so, 
there would have come that glance from the 
corner of his eye, and that curl in his lip, and 
that gentle breath from his nostril, which had 
become to her the expression of imperious mari- 
tal authority. Nothing could be kinder, more 
truly affectionate, than was the heart of her hus- 
band towards her niece. Therefore Madame Yoss 
yielded, and comforted herself by an assurance 
that as the best was being done for Marie, she 
need not subject herself to her husband's dis- 
pleasure by contradiction or interference. 

Michel Yoss himself said little or nothing 
to his niece at this time. She had yielded to 
him, making him a promise that she would en- 
deavour to accede to his wishes, and he felt that 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPERE. 97 

lie was bound in honour not to trouble her 
farther, unless she should show herself to be 
disobedient when the moment of trial came. He 
was not himself at ease, he was not comfortable 
at heart, because he knew that Marie was avoid- 
ing him. Though she would still stand behind 
his chair at supper, — when for a moment she 
would be 'still, — she did not put her hands upon 
his head, nor did she speak to him more than 
the nature of her service required. Twice he 
tried to induce her to sit with them at table, as 
though to show that her position was altered 
now that she was about to become a bride ; but 
he was altogether powerless to effect any such 
change as this. ~No words that could have been 
spoken would have induced Marie to seat herself 
at the table, so well did she understand all that 
such a change in her habits would have seemed 
to imply. There was now hardly one person in 
the supper- room of the hotel who did not in- 
stinctively understand the reason which made 
Michel Voss anxious that his niece should sit 
down, and that other reason which made her 
sternly refuse to comply with his request. So, 
day followed day, and there was but little said 



98 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

between the uncle and the niece, though hereto- 
fore — np to a time Still within a fortnight of the 
present day — the whole business of the house 
had been managed by little whispered confer- 
ences between them. ' 1 think we'll do so and 
so, uncle;' or, 'Just you manage it yourself, 
Marie.' Such and such -like words had passed 
every morning and evening, with an under- 
standing between them full and complete. Xow 
each was afraid of the other, and everything was 
astray. 

But Marie was still gentle with the children : 
when she could be with them for half an hour, 
she would sit with them on her lap, or cluster- 
ing round, kissing them and saying soft words 
to them, — even softer in her affection than had 
been her wont. They understood as well as 
everybody else that something was wrong, — that 
there was to be some change as to Marie which 
perhaps would not be a change for the better ; 
that there was cause for melancholy, for close 
kissing as though such kissing were in prepara- 
tion for parting, and for soft strokings with their 
little hands as though Marie were to be pitied 
for that which was about to come upon her. 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPEEE. 99 

< Isn't somebody coming to take you away?' 
little Michel asked her, when they were quite 
alone. Marie had not known how to answer 
him. She had therefore embraced him closely, 
and a tear fell upon his face. ' Ah,' he said, ' I 
know somebody is coming tc take you away. 
Will not papa help you ?' She had not spoken ; 
but for the moment she had taken courage, and 
had resolved that she would help herself. 

At length the day was there on which Adrian 
Urmand was to come. It was his purpose to 
travel by Mulhouse and Eemiremont, and Michel 
Yoss drove over to the latter town to fetch him. 
It was felt by every one — it could not be but 
felt — that there was something special in his 
coming. His arrival now was not like the arrival 
of any one else. Marie, with all her resolution 
that it should be like usual arrivals at the inn, 
could not avoid the making of some difference 
herself. A better supper was prepared than 
usual; and, at the last moment, she herself 
assisted in preparing it. , The young men clus- 
tered round the door of the hotel earlier than 
usual to welcome the new-comer. M. le Cure 
was there with a clean white collar, and with 



100 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

his best hat. Madame Voss had changed her 
gown, and appeared in her own little room be- 
fore her husband returned almost in her Sunday 
apparel. She had said a doubtful word to Marie, 
suggesting a clean ribbon, or an altered frill. 
Marie had replied only by a look. She would 
not have changed a pin for Urmand's coming, 
had all Granpere come round her to tell her 
that it was needful. If the man wanted more 
to eat than was customary, let him have it. It 
was not for her to measure her uncle's hospi- 
tality. But her ribbons and her pins were her 
own. 

The carriage was driving up to the door, 
and Michel with his young friend descended 
among the circle of expectant admirers. Ur- 
mand was rich, always well dressed, and now 
he was to be successful in love. He had about 
him a look as of a successful prosperous lover, 
as he jumped out of the little carriage with his 
portmanteau in his hand, and his greatcoat with 
its silk linings open at the breast. There was 
a consciousness in him and in every one there 
that he had not come now to buy linen. He 
made his way into the little room where Madame 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 101 

Y.oss was standing up, waiting for hiin, and was 
taken by the hand by her. Michel Yoss soon 
followed them. 

' And where is Marie ?■ Michel asked. 

An answer came from some one that Marie 
was upstairs. Supper would soon be ready, and 
Marie was busy. Then Michel sent up an order 
by Peter that Marie should come down. But 
Marie did not come down. ( She had gone to 
her own room,' Peter said. Then there came 
a frown on Michel's brow. Marie had promised 
to try, and this was not trying. He said no 
more till they went up to supper. There was 
Marie standing as usual at the soup tureen. Ur- 
mand walked up to her, and they touched each 
other's hand ; but Marie said never a word. The 
frown on Michel's brow was very black, but 
Marie went on dispensing her soup. 



CHAPTEE VII. 

Adrian Urmand, in spite of his white hands and 
his well-combed locks and the silk lining to his 
coat, had so ranch of the spirit of a man that 
he was minded to hold his head well np before 
the girl whom he wished to make his wife. 
Michel during that drive from Eemiremont had 
told him that he might probably prevail. Michel 
had said a thousand things in favour of his niece 
and not a word to her prejudice ; but he had so 
spoken, or had endeavoured so to speak, as to 
make Urmancl understand that Marie could only 
be won with difficulty, and that she was perhaps 
unaccountably averse to the idea of matrimony. 
c She is like a young filly, you know, that starts 
and plunges when she is touched,' he had said. 
1 You think there is nobody else ?' Urmancl had 
asked. Then Michel Voss had answered with 
confidence, ' I am sure there is nobody else.' 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GKANPERE. 103 

Urmand had listened and said very little ; but 
when at supper he saw that the uncle was ruffled 
in his temper and sat silent with a black brow, 
that Madame Voss was troubled in spirit, and 
that Marie dispensed her soup without vouch- 
safing a look to any one, he felt that it behoved 
him to do his best, and he did it. He talked 
freely to Madame Yoss, telling her the news 
from Basle, — how at length he thought the 
French trade was reviving, and how all the 
Swiss authorities were still opposed to the Ger- 
man occupation of Alsace; and how flax was 
likely to be dearer than ever he had seen it ; 
and how the travelling English were fewer this 
year than usual, to the great detriment of the 
innkeepers. Every now and then he would say 
a word to Marie herself, as she passed near him, 
speaking in a cheery tone and striving his best 
to dispel a black silence which on the present 
occasion would have been specially lugubrious. 
Upon the whole he did his work well, and 
Michel Yoss was aware of it ; but Marie Bromar 
entertained no gentle thought respecting him. 
He was not wanted there, and he ought not to 
have come. She had given him an answer, and 



104 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

he ought to have taken it. Nothing, she de- 
clared to herself, was meaner than a man who 
would go to a girl's parents or guardians for 
support, when the girl herself had told him that 
she wished to have nothing to do with him. 
Marie had promised that she would try, but 
every feeling of her heart was against the 
struggle. 

After supper Michel with his young friend 
sat some time at the table, for the innkeeper had 
brought forth a bottle of his best Burgundy in 
honour of the occasion. When they had eaten 
their fruit, Madame Yoss left the room, and 
Michel and Adrian were soon alone together. 
' Say nothing to her till to-morrow,' said Michel 
in a low voice. 

1 1 will not,' said Adrian. 1 1 do not wonder 
that she should be put out of face if she knows 
why I have come.' 

1 Of course she knows. Give her to-night 
and to-morrow, and we will see how it is to be.' 

At this time Marie was up-stairs with the 
children, resolute that nothing should induce 
her to go down till she should be sure that 
their visitor had gone to his chamber. There 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRAXPERE. 105 

were many things about the house -which it was 
her custom to see in their place before she went 
to her rest, and nobody should say that she 
neglected her work because of this dressed- up 
doll; but she would wait till she was sure of 
him, — till she was sure of her uncle also. In 
her present frame of mind she could not have 
spoken to the doll with ordinary courtesy. What 
she feared was, that her uncle should seek her 
up-stairs. 

But Michel had some idea that her part in 
the play was not an easy one, and was minded 
to spare her for that night. But she had pro- 
mised to try, and she must be reminded of her 
promise. Hitherto she certainly had not tried. 
Hitherto she had been ill-tempered, petulant, 
and almost rude. He would not see her himself 
this evening, but he would send a message to 
her by his wife. ' Tell her from me that I shall 
expect to see smiles on her face to-morrow,' said 
Michel Yoss. And as he spoke there certainly 
►were no smiles on his own. 

1 1 suppose she is flurried,' said Madame Yoss. 

' Ah, flurried ! That may do for to-night. 
I have been very good to her. Had she been 



106 THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPERE. 

my own, I could not have been kinder. I have 
loved her just as if she were my own. Of course 
I look now for the obedience of a child.' 

i She does not mean to be undutiful, Michel.' 

1 1 do not know about meaning. I like reality, 
and I will have it too. I consulted herself, and 
was more forbearing than most fathers would be. 
I talked to her about it, and she promised me 
that she would clo her best to entertain the man. 
Now she receives him and me with an old frock 
and a sulky face. Who pays for her clothes? 
She has everything she wants, — just as a daugh- 
ter, and she would not take the trouble to change 
her dress to grace my friend, — as you did, as any 
daughter would ! I am angry with her.' 

' Do not be angry with her. I think I can 
understand why she did not put on another 
frock.' 

' So can I understand. I can understand 
well enough. I am not a fool. "What is it she 
wants, I wonder ? What is it she expects ? 
Does she think some Count from Paris is to. 
come and fetch her ?' 

1 Nay, Michel, I think she expects nothing 
of that sort.' 



THE GOLDEN" LION OE GRANPERE. 107 

' Then let her behave like any other young 
woman, and do as she is bid. He is not old 
or ugly, or a sot, or a gambler. Upon my word 
and honour I can't conceive what it is that she 
wants. I can't indeed.' It was perhaps the fault 
of Michel Voss that he could not understand that 
a young woman should live in the same house 
wuth him, and have a want which he did not 
conceive. Poor Marie ! All that she wanted 
now, at this moment, was to be let alone ! 

Madame Yoss, in obedience to her husband's 
commands, went up to Marie and found her sit- 
ting in the children's room, leaning with her 
head on her hand and her elbow on the table, 
while the children were asleep around her. She 
was waiting till the house should be quiet, so 
that she could go down and complete her work. 
' 0, is it you, Aunt Josey ? she said. ' I am 
waiting till uncle and M. Urmand are gone, that 
I may go down and put away the wine and the 
fruit.' 

1 Never mind that to-night, Marie.' 
c yes, I will go down presently. I should 
not be happy if the things were not put straight. 
Everything is about the house everywhere. We 



108 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRAXPEEE. 

need not, I suppose, become like pigs because M. 
TJrmand has come from Basle.' 

1 ISTo ; we need not be like pigs,' said Madame 
Yoss. ' Come into my room a moment, Marie. 
I want to speak to you. Your uncle won't be up 
yet.' Then she led the way, and Marie followed 
her. ' Your uncle is becoming angry, Marie, 
because — ' 

' Because why ? Have I done anything to 
make him angry ?' 

' "Why are you so cross to this young man ?' 

' 1 am not cross, Aunt Josey. I went on 
just the same as I always do. If Uncle Michel 
wants anything else, that is his fault ; — not 
mine.' 

'Of course you know what he wants, and 
I must say that you ought to obey him. You 
gave him a sort of a promise, and now he thinks 
that you are breaking it.' 

c I gave him no promise,' said Marie stoutly. 

'He says that you told him that you would 
at any rate be civil to M. TJrmand.' 

' And I have been civil,' said Marie. 

' You did not speak to him.' 

' I never do speak to anybody,' said Marie. 



THE GOLDEN LION OP GKANPERE. 109 

* I have got something to think of instead of 
talking to the people. How would the things 
go, if I took to talking to the people, and left 
everything to that little goose, Peter? Uncle 
Michel is unreasonable, — and unkind.' 

' He means to clo the best by you in his 
power. He wants to treat you just as though 
you were his daughter.' 

' Then let him leave me alone. I don't want 
anything to be done. If I were his daughter 
he would not grudge me permission to stop at 
home in his house. I don't want anything else. 
I have never complained.' 

'But, my dear, it is time that you should 
be settled in the world.' 

i I am settled. I don't want any other set- 
tlement, — if they will only let me alone.' 

' Marie,' said Madame Yoss after a short 
pause, 'I sometimes think that you still have 
got George Yoss in your head.' 

'Is it that, Aunt Josey, that makes my 
uncle go on like this ?' asked Marie. 

'You do not answer me, child.' 

'I do not know what answer you want. 
When George was here, I hardly spoke to him. 



110 THE GOLDEN LION OP GRANPERE. 

If Uncle Michel is afraid of me, I will give 
him my solemn promise never to marry any 
one without his permission.' 

i George Yoss will never come back for you,' 
said Madame Yoss. 

'He will come when I ask him,' said Marie, 
flashing round upon her aunt with all the fire 
of her bright eyes. ' Does any one say that I 
have done anything to bring him to me? If 
so, it is false, whoever says it. I have done 
nothing. He has gone away, and let him. stay. 
I shall not send for him. Uncle Michel need 
not be afraid of me, because of George.' 

By this time Marie was speaking almost in 
a fury of passion, and her aunt was almost sub- 
dued by her. ' Nobody is afraid of you, Marie,' 
she said. 

' Nobody need be. If they will let me alone, 
I will do no harm to any one.' 

4 But, Marie, you would wish to be married 
some day.' 

'"Why should I wish to be married? If I 
liked him, I would take him, but I don't, 0, 
Aunt Josey, I thought you would be my 
friend !' 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. Ill 

1 1 cannot be your friend, Marie, if yon op- 
pose your uncle. He has done everything for 
you, and he must know best what is good for 
you. There can be no reason against M. Ur- 
mand, and if you persist in being so unruly, 
he will only think that it is because you want 
George to come back for you.' 

1 1 care nothing for George,' said Marie, as 
she left the room ; c nothing at all — nothing.' 

About half-an-hour afterwards, listening at 
her own door, she heard the sound of her uncle's 
feet as he went to his room, and knew that 
the house was quiet. Then she crept forth, 
and went about her business. Nobody should 
say that she neglected anything because of this 
unhappiness. She brushed the crumbs from the 
long table, and smoothed the cloth for the next 
morning's breakfast; she put away bottles and 
dishes, and she locked up cupboards, and saw 
that the windows and the doors were fastened. 
Then she went down to her books in the little 
office below stairs. In the performance of her 
daily duty there were entries to be made and 
figures to be adjusted, which would have been 
done in the course of the evening, had it not 



112 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

been that she had been driven upstairs by fear 
of her lover and her uncle. But by the time 
that she took herself up to bed, nothing had 
been omitted. And after the book was closed 
she sat there, trying to resolve what she would 
do. Nothing had, perhaps, given her so sharp a 
pang as her aunt's assurance that George Voss 
would not come back to her, as her aunt's 
suspicion that she was looking for his return. 
It was not that she had been deserted, but 
that others should be able to taunt her with 
her desolation. She had never whispered the 
name of George to any one since he had left 
Granpere, and she thought that she might have 
been spared this indignity. 'If he fancies I 
want to interfere with him,' she said to herself, 
thinking of her uncle, and of her uncle's plans 
in reference to his son, 'he will find that he 
is mistaken.' Then it occurred to her that she 
would be driven to accept Adrian Urmand to 
prove that she was heart-whole in regard to 
George Yoss. 

She sat there, thinking of it till the night 
was half-spent, and when she crept up cold to 
bed, she had almost made up her mind that 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 113 

it would be best for her to do as her uncle 
wished. As for loving the man, that was out 
of the question. But then would it not be 
better to do without love altogether ? 



CHAPTEE VIII. 

i How is it to be ?' said Michel to his niece the 
next morning. The question was asked down- 
stairs in the little room, while Urmand was sit- 
ting at table in the chamber above waiting for 
the landlord. Michel Voss had begun to feel 
that his visitor would be very heavy on hand, 
having come there as a visitor and not as a man 
of business, unless he could be handed over to 
the woman -kind. But no such handing over 
would be possible, unless Marie would acquiesce. 
' How is it to be ?' Michel asked. He had so 
prepared himself that he was ready in accord- 
ance with a word or a look from his niece either 
to be very angry, thoroughly imperious, and 
resolute to have his way with the dependent 
girl, or else to be all smiles, and kindness, and 
confidence, and affection. There was nothing she 
should not have, if she would onl} r be amenable 
to reason. 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 115 

i How is what to be, Uncle Michel ?' said 
Marie. 

The landlord thought that he discovered an 
indication of concession in his niece's voice, and 
began immediately to adapt himself to the softer 
courses. ' Well, Marie, yon know what it is we 
all wish. I hope yon understand that we love 
you well, and think so much of you, that we 
would not intrust you to any one living, who 
did not bear a high character and seem to de- 
serve you.' He was looking into Marie's face 
as he spoke, and saw that she was soft and 
thoughtful in her mood, not proud and scornful 
as she had been on the preceding evening. l You 
have grown up here with us, Marie, till it has 
almost come upon us with surprise that you are 
a beautiful young woman, instead of a great 
straggling girl.' 

' I wish I was a great straggling girl still.' 

' Do not say that, my darling. We must all 
take the world as it is, you know. But here you 
are, and of course it is my duty and your aunt's 
duty — ' it was always a sign of high good hu- 
mour on the part of Michel Yoss, when he spoke 
of his wife as being anybody in the household — 



116 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEEE. 

i my duty and your aunt's duty to see and do 
the best for you.' 

1 You have always done the best for me in 
letting me be here.' 

c Well, my dear, I hope so. You had to be 
here, and you fell into this way of life naturally. 
But sometimes, when I have seen you waiting 
on the people about the house, I've thought it 
wasn't quite right.' 

' I think it was quite right. Peter couldn't 
do it all, and he'd be sure to make a mess 
of it.' 

' We must have two Peters ; that's all. But 
as I was saying, that kind of thing was natural 
enough before you were grown up, and had be- 
come — what shall I say? — such a handsome 
young woman.' Marie laughed, and turned up 
her nose and shook her head ; but it may be pre- 
sumed that she received some comfort from her 
uncle's compliments. c And then I began to see, 
and your aunt began to see, that it wasn't right 
that you should spend your life handing soup to 
the young men here.' 

' It is Peter who always hands the soup to 
the young men.' 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 117 

I Well, well ; but you are waiting upon them, 
and upon us.' 

C I trust the day is never to come, uncle, 
when I'm to be ashamed of waiting upon you.' 
When he heard this, he put his arm round her 
and kissed her. Had he known at that moment 
what her feelings were in regard to his son, he 
would have recommended Adrian Urmand to go 
back to Basle. Had he known what were George's 
feelings, he would at once have sent for his son 
from Colmar. 

I I hope you may give me my pipe and my 
cup of coffee when I'm such an old fellow that 
I can't get up to help myself. That's the sort 
of reward we look forward to from those Ave love 
and cherish. But, Marie, when we see you as 
you are now — your aunt and I — we feel that 
this kind of thing shouldn't go on. We want 
the world to know that you are a daughter to 
us, not a servant.' 

< 0, the world — the world, uncle! Wiry 
should we care for the world ?' 

< We must care, my dear. And you yourself, 
my dear — if this went on for a few years longer, 
you yourself would become very tired of it. It 



IIS THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

isn't what we should like for you, if you were 
our own daughter. Can't you understand that V 

'No, I can't.' 

1 Yes, my dear, yes. I'm sure you do. Very 
well. Then there comes this young man. I am 
not a bit surprised that he should fall in love 
with you — because I should do it myself if I 
were not your uncle.' Then she caressed his 
arm. How was she to keep herself from caress- 
ing him, when he spoke so sweetly to her ? i We 
were not a bit surprised when he came and told 
us how it was. Nobody could have behaved 
better. Everybody must admit that. He spoke 
of you to me and to your aunt as though you 
were the highest lady in the land.' 

' I don't want any one to speak of me as 
though I were a high lady.' 

'I mean in the way of respect, my dear. 
Every young woman must wish to be treated 
with respect by any young man who comes after 
her. "Well; — he told us that it was the great 
wish of his life that you should be his wife. 
He's a man who has a right to look for a wife, 
because he can keep a wife. He has a house, 
and a business, and ready money.' 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 119 

< What's all that, uncle ?' 

'Nothing; — nothing at all. No more than 
that,' — saying which Michel Voss threw his right 
hand and arm loosely abroad; — 'no more than 
that, if he were not himself well-behaved along 
with it. We want to see yon married to him, — 
your aunt and I, — because we are sure that he 
will be a good husband to you.' 

' But if I don't love him, Uncle Michel ?' 

1 Ah, my dear ; that's where I think it is that 
you are dreaming, and will go on dreaming till 
you've lost yourself, unless your aunt and I in- 
terfere to prevent it. Love is all very well. Of 
course you must love your husband. But it 
doesn't do for young women to let themselves be 
run away with by romantic ideas; — it doesn't, 
indeed, my dear. I've heard of young women 
who've fallen in love with statues and men in 
armour out of poetry, and grand fellows that 
they put into books, and there they've been wait- 
ing, waiting, waiting, till some man in armour 
should come for them. The man in armour 
doesn't come. But sometimes there comes some- 
body who looks like a man in armour, and that's 
the worst of all.' 



120 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

C I don't want a man in armour, Uncle Mi- 
chel.' 

'No, I daresay not. But the truth is, you 
don't know what you want. The proper thing 
for a young woman is to get herself well settled, 
if she has the opportunity. There are people 
who think so much of money, that they'd give 
a child almost to anybody as long as he was rich. 
I shouldn't like to see you marry a man as old 
as myself.' 

c I shouldn't care how old he was if I loved 
him.' 

'JSTor to a curmudgeon,' continued Michel, 
not caring to notice the interruption, ' nor to an 
ill-tempered fellow, or one who gambled, or one 
who would use bad words to you. But here is 
a young man who has no faults at all.' 

1 1 hate people who have no faults,' said 
Marie. 

' Now you must give him an answer to-day 
or to-morrow. You remember what you pro- 
mised me when we were coming home the other 
day.' Marie remembered her promise very well, 
and thought that a great deal more had been 
made of it than justice would have permitted. 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPEEE. 121 

; I don't Tran t to hurry you at all, only it makes 
me so sad at heart when my own girl won't come 
and say a kind word to me and give me a kiss 
before we part at night. I thought so much of 
that last night, Marie, I couldn't sleep for think- 
ing of it.' On hearing this, she flung her arms 
round his neck and kissed him on each cheek 
and on his lips. ' I get to feel so, Marie, if 
there's anything wrong between you and me, that 
I don't know what I'm doing. "Will you do this 
for me, my clear? Come and sit at table with 
us this evening, and make one of us. At any 
rate, come and show that we don't want to make 
a servant of you. Then we'll put off the rest of 
it till to-morrow.' When such a request was 
made to her in such words, how could she not 
accede to it ? She had no alternative but to say 
that she would do in this respect as he would 
have her. She smiled, and nodded her head, and 
kissed him again. ' And, Marie darling, put on 
a pretty frock, — for my sake. I like to see you 
gay and pretty.' Again she nodded her head, 
and again she kissed him. Such requests, so 
made, she felt that it would be impossible she 
should refuse. 



122 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRAXPERE. 

And yet when she came to think of it as 
she went abont the house alone, the granting of 
such requests was in fact yielding in everything. 
If she made herself smart for this young man, 
and sat next him, and smiled, and talked to him, 
conscious as she would be — and he would be 
also — that she was so placed that she might 
become his wife, how afterwards could she hold 
her ground ? And if she were really resolute to 
hold her ground, would it not be much better 
that she should do so by giving up no point, 
even though her uncle's anger should rise hot 
against her? But now she had promised her 
uncle, and she knew that she could not go back 
from her word. It would be better for her, she 
told herself, to think no more about it. Things 
must arrange themselves. What did it matter 
whether she were w T retched at Basle or wretched 
at Granpere? The only thing that could give 
a charm to her life was altogether out of her 
reach. 

After this conversation, Michel went upstairs 
to his young friend, and within a quarter of an 
hour had handed him over to his wife. It was 
of course understood now that Marie was not to 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 123 

be troubled till the time came for her to sit 
down at table with her smart frock. Michel 
explained to his wife the full amount of his 
success, and acknowledged that he felt that 
Marie was already pretty nearly overcome. 

' She'll try to be pleasant for my sake this 
evening,' he said, ' and so she'll fall into the 
way of being intimate with him ; and when he 
asks her to-morrow she'll be forced to take 
him.' 

It never occurred to him, as he said this, 
that he was forming a plan for sacrificing the 
girl he loved. He imagined that he was doing 
his duty by his niece thoroughly, and was rather 
proud of his own generosity. In the afternoon 
Adrian Urmand was taken out for a drive to 
the ravine by Madame Yoss. They both, no 
doubt, felt that this was very tedious ; but they 
were by nature patient — quite unlike Michel 
Yoss or Marie — and each of them was aware 
that there was a duty to be done. Adrian 
therefore was satisfied to potter about the ra- 
vine, and Madame Yoss assured him at least a 
dozen times that it was the dearest wish of her 
heart to call him her nephew-in-law. 



124 THE GOLDEN" LION OF GRANPERE. 

At last the time for supper came. Through- 
out the day Marie had said very little to any 
one after leaving her uncle. Ideas flitted across 
her mind of various modes of escape. What if 
she were to run away — to her cousin's house 
at Epinal ; and write from thence to say that 
this proposed marriage was impossible ? But 
her cousin at Epinal was a stranger to her, 
and her uncle had always been to her the same 
as a father. Then she thought of going to 
Colmar, of telling the whole truth to George, 
and of dying when he refused her — as refuse 
her he would. But this was a dream rather 
than a plan. Or how would it be if she went 
to her uncle now at once, while the young man 
was away at the ravine, and swore to him that 
nothing on earth should induce her to marry 
Adrian Urmand ? But brave as Marie was, she 
was afraid to do this. He had told her how 
he suffered when they two did not stand well 
together, and she feared to be accused by him 
of unkindness and ingratitude. And how would 
it be with her if she did accept the man ? She 
was sufficiently alive to the necessities of the 
world to know that it would be well to have 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GR.AXPERE. 125 

a home of her own, and a husband, and children 
if God would send them. She understood quite 
as well as Michel Yoss did that to be head- 
waiter at the Lion d'Or was not a career in life 
of which she could have reason to be proud. 
As the afternoon went on she was in great 
doubt. She spread the cloth, and prepared the 
room for supper, somewhat earlier than usual, 
knowing that she should require some minutes 
for her toilet. It was necessary that she should 
explain to Peter that he must take upon himself 
some self-action upon this occasion, and it may 
be doubted whether she did this with perfect 
good humour. She was angry when she had to 
look for him before she commenced her opera- 
tions, and scolded him because he could not un- 
derstand without being told why she went away 
and left him twenty minutes before the bell was 
rung. 

As soon as the bell was heard through the 
house, Michel Yoss, who was waiting below with 
his wife in a quiet unusual manner, marshalled 
the way upstairs. He had partly expected that 
Marie would join them below, and was becoming 
fidgety lest she should break away from her en- 



126 THE GOLDEN LION OF ORANPEEE. 

gagement. He went first, and then followed 
Adrian and Madame Yoss together. The ac- 
customed guests were all ready, because it had 
come to be generally understood that this sup- 
per was to be as it were a supper of betrothal. 
Madame Yoss had on her black silk gown. Mi- 
chel had changed his coat and his cravat. Adrian 
Urmand was exceedingly smart. The dullest 
intellect could perceive that there was some- 
thing special in the wind. The two old ladies 
who were lodgers in the house came out from 
their rooms five minutes earlier than usual, and 
met the cortege from downstairs in the passage. 

When Michel entered the room he at once 
looked round for Marie. There she was stand- 
ing at the soup - tureen with her back to the 
company. But he could see that there hung 
down some ribbon from her waist, that her 
frock was not the one she had worn in the 
morning, and that in the article of her attire 
she had kept her word with him. He was 
very awkward. When one of the old ladies 
was about to seat herself in the chair next to 
Adrian — in preparation for which it must be 
admitted that Marie had made certain wicked 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 127 

arrangements — Michel first by signs and after- 
wards with audible words, intended to be whis- 
pered, indicated to the lady that she was re- 
quired to place herself elsewhere. This was 
hard upon the lady, as her own table-napkin 
and a cup out of which she was wont to drink 
were placed at that spot. Marie, standing at 
the soup- tureen, heard it all and became very 
spiteful. Then her uncle called to her : 
' Marie, my dear, are you not coming ?' 
' Presently, uncle,' replied Marie, in a clear 
voice, as she commenced to dispense the soup. 

She ladled out all the soup without once 
turning her face towards the company, then 
stood for a few moments as if in doubt, and 
after that walked boldly up to her place. She 
had intended to sit next to her uncle, opposite 
to her lover, and there had been her chair. 
But Michel had insisted on bringing the old 
lady round to the seat that Marie had intended 
for herself, and so had disarranged all her plans. 
The old lady had simpered and smiled and 
made a little speech to M. Urmancl, which every- 
body had heard. Marie, too, had heard it all. 
But the thing had to be done, and she plucked 



128 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRAXPEEE. 

up her courage and did it. She placed herself 
next to her lover, and as she did so, felt that 
it was necessary that she should say something 
at the moment : 

' Here I am, Uncle Michel; but you'll find 
you'll miss me, before supper is over.' 

' There is somebody would much rather have 
you than his supper,' said the horrid old lady 
opposite. 

Then there was a pause, a terrible pause. 

' Perhaps it used to be so when young men 
came to sup with you, years ago ; but nowadays 
men like their supper,' said Marie, who was 
driven on by her anger to a ferocity which she 
could not restrain. 

' 1 did not mean to give offence,' said the 
poor old lady meekly. 

Marie, as she thought of what she had said, 
repented so bitterly that she could hardly refrain 
from tears. 

i There is no offence at all,' said Michel an- 
grily. 

4 Will you allow me to give you a little 
wine ?' said Adrian, turning to his neighbour. 

Marie bowed her head, and held her glass, 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 129 

but the wine remained in it. to the end of the 
supper, and there it was left. 

When it was all oyer, Michel felt that it had 
not been a success. "With the exception of her 
savage speech to the disagreeable old lady, Marie 
had behaved well. She was on her mettle, and 
very anxious to show that she could sit at table 
with Adrian Urmand, and be at her ease. She 
was not at her ease, but she made a bold fight — 
which was more than was done by her uncle oi- 
lier aunt. Michel was unable to speak in his 
ordinary voice or with his usual authority, and 
Madame Yoss hardly uttered a word. Urmand, 
whose position was the hardest of all, struggled 
gallantly, but was quite unable to keep up any 
continued conversation. The old lady had been 
thoroughly silenced, and neither she nor her 
sister again opened their mouth. When Madame 
Yoss rose from her chair in order that they 
might all retire, the consciousness of relief was 
very great. 

For that night Marie's duty to her uncle 
was done. So much had been understood. She 
was to dress herself and sit down to supper, 
and after that she was not to be disturbed again 



130 THE GOLDEX LION OF GRANPERE. 

till the morrow. On the next morning she was 
to be subjected to the grand trial. She under- 
stood this so well that she went about the house 
fearless on that evening — fearless as regarded the 
moment, fearful only as regarded the morrow. 

1 May I ask one question, dear ?' said her 
aunt, coming to her after she had gone to her 
own room. i Have you made up your mind?' 

'No,' said Marie; ' I have not made up my 
mind.' 

Her aunt stood for a moment looking at her, 
and then crept out of the room. 

In the morning Michel Voss was half-in- 
clined to release his niece, and to tell Urmand 
that he had better go back to Basle. He could 
see that the girl was suffering, and, after all, 
what was it that he wanted ? Only that she 
should be prosperous and happy. His heart 
almost relented ; and at one moment, had Marie 
come across him, he would 'have released her. 
' Let it go on,' he said to himself, as he took 
up his cap and stick, and went off to the woods. 
' Let it go on. If she finds to-day that she 
can't take him, I'll never say another word to 
press her.' He went up to the woods after 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 131 

breakfast, and did not come back till the even- 
ing. 

During breakfast Marie did not show her- 
self at all, but remained with the children. It 
was not expected that she should show -herself. 
At about noon, as soon as her uncle had started, 
her aunt came to her and asked her whether 
she was ready to see M. Urmand. ' I am ready,' 
said Marie, rising from her seat, and standing 
upright before her aunt. 

'And where will you see him, dear?' 

'Wherever he pleases,' said Marie, with 
something that was again almost savage in her 
voice. 

' Shall he come up-stairs to you ?' 

' What, here ?' 

i ~No ; he cannot come here. You might go 
into the little sitting-room.' 

' Yery well. I will go into the little sitting- 
room.' Then without saying another word she 
got up, left the room, and went along the pass- 
age to the chamber in question. It was a 
small room, furnished, as they all thought at 
Granpere, with Parisian elegance, intended for 
such visitors to the hotel as might choose to 



132 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

pay for the charm and luxury of such an apart- 
ment. It was generally found that visitors to 
Granpere did not care to pay for the luxury 
of this Parisian elegance, and the room was 
almost always empty. Thither Marie went, 
and seated herself at once on the centre of the 
red, stuffy, velvet sofa. There she sat, perfectly 
motionless, till there came a knock at the door. 
Marie Bromar was a very handsome girl, but 
as she sat there, all alone, with her hands 
crossed on her lap, with a hard look about her 
mouth, with a frown on her brow, and scorn 
and disdain for all around her in her eyes, she 
was as little handsome as it was possible that 
she should make herself. She answered the 
knock, and Adrian Urmand entered the room. 
She did not rise, but waited till he had come 
close up to her. Then she was the first to 
speak. c Aunt Josey tells me that you want to 
see me,' she said. 

Urmand' s task was certainly not a pleasant 
one. Though his temper was excellent, he was 
already beginning to think that he was being 
ill-used. Marie, no doubt, was a very fine girl ; 
but the match that he offered her was one at 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 133 

which, no young woman of her rank in all 
Lorraine or Alsace need have turned up her 
nose. He had been invited over to Granpere 
specially that he might spend his time in mak- 
ing love, and he had found the task before him 
very hard and disagreeable. He was afflicted 
with all the ponderous notoriety of an acknow- 
ledged suitor's position, but was consoled with 
none of the usual comforts. Had he not been 
pledged to make the attempt, he would pro- 
bably have gone back to Basle; as it was, he 
was compelled to renew his offer. He was aware 
that he could not leave the house without doing 
so. But he was determined that one more re- 
fusal should be the last. 

' Marie,' said he, putting out his hand to 
her, l doubtless you know what it is that I would 
say.' 

' I suppose I do,' she answered. 

■ I hope you do not doubt my true affection 
for you.' 

She paused a moment before she replied. i I 
have no reason to doubt it,' she said. 

'No indeed. I love you with all my heart. 
I do truly. Your uncle and aunt think it would 



134 THE GOLDEN LION OF GKANPERE. 

be a good thing for both of us that we should 
be married. What answer will you make me, 
Marie?' Again she paused. She had allowed 
him to take her hand, and as he thus asked his 
question he was standing opposite to her, still 
holding it. c You have thought about it, Marie, 
since I was here last ?' 

I Yes ; I have thought about it.' 
'Well, dearest?' 

I I suppose it had better be so,' said she, 
standing up and withdrawing her hand. 

She had accepted him; and now it was no 
longer possible for him to go back to Basle ex- 
cept as a betrothed man. She had accepted him; 
but there came upon him a wretched feeling that 
none of the triumph of successful love had come 
to him. He was almost disappointed, — or if not 
disappointed, was at any rate embarrassed. But 
it was necessary that he should immediately con- 
duct himself as an engaged man. ' And you will 
love me, Marie ?' he said, as he again took her 
by the hand. 

' I will do my best,' she said. 

Then he put his arm round her waist and 
kissed her, and she did not turn away her face 



THE GOLDEN LION OE GKANPERE. 135 

from him. ' I will do my best also to make you 
happy,' he said. 

' I am sure you will. I believe you. I kuow 
that you are good.' There was another pause 
during which he stood, still embracing her. ' I 
may go now ; may I not ?' she said. 

' You have not kissed me yet, Marie ?' Then 
she kissed him ; but the touch of her lips was 
cold, and he felt that there was no love in them. 
He knew, though he could hardly define the 
knowledge to himself, that she had accepted him 
in obedience to her uncle. He was almost angry, 
but being cautious and even-tempered by nature 
he repressed the feeling. He knew that he must 
take her now, and that he had better make the 
best of it. She would, he was sure, be a good 
wife, and the love would probably come in time. 

' We shall be together this evening ; shall we 
not ?' he asked. 

' 0, yes,' said Marie, ' if you please.' It 
was, as she knew, only reasonable now that they 
should be together. Then he let her go, and she 
walked off to her room. 



CHAPTEE IX. 

' I suppose it had better be so,' Marie Bromar 
had said to her lover, when in set form he made 
his proposition. She had thought very much 
about it, and had come exactly to that state of 
mind. She did suppose that it had better be so. 
She knew that she did not love the man. She 
knew also that she loved another man. She did 
not even think that she should ever learn to love 
Adrian Urmand. She had neither ambition in 
the matter, nor even any feeling of prudence as 
regarded herself. She was enticed by no desire 
of position, or love of money. In respect to all 
her own feelings about herself she would sooner 
have remained at the Lion d'Or, and have waited 
upon the guests day after clay, and month after 
month. But yet she had supposed ' that it had 
better be so.' Her uncle wished it, — wished it so 
strongly that she believed it would be impos- 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPEEE. 137 

sible that she could remain an inmate in his 
house, unless she acceded to his wishes. Her 
aunt manifestly thought that it was her duty to 
accept the man, and could not understand how so 
manifest a duty, going hand in hand as it did 
with so great an advantage, should be made a 
matter of doubt. She had not one about her to 
counsel her to hold by her own feelings, It was 
the practice of the world around her that girls 
in such matters should do as they were bidden. 
And then, stronger than all, there was the in- 
difference to her of the man she loved ! 

Marie Bromar was a fine, high-spirited, ani- 
mated girl ; but it must not be thought that she 
was a highly educated lady, or that time had 
been given to her amidst all her occupations, in 
which she could allow her mind to dwell much 
on feelings of romance. Her life had ever been 
practical, busy, and full of action. As is ever 
the case with those who have to do chiefly with 
things material, she was thinking more frequently 
of the outer wants of those around her, than of 
the inner workings of her own heart and per- 
sonal intelligence. "Would the bread rise well? 
Would that bargain she had made for poultry 



138 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

suffice for the house? Was that lot of wine 
which she had persuaded her uncle to buy of 
a creditable quality? Were her efforts for in- 
creasing her uncle's profits compatible with satis- 
faction on the part of her uncle's guests? Such 
were the questions which from day to day occu- 
pied her attention and filled her with interest. 
And therefore her own identity was not strong to 
her, as it is strong to those whose business per- 
mits them to look frequently into themselves, or 
whose occupations are of a nature to produce 
such introspection. If her head ached, or had 
she lamed her hand by any accident, she would 
think more of the injury to the household arising 
from her incapacity than of her own pain. It is 
so, reader, with your gardener, your groom, or 
your cook, if you will think of it. Till you tell 
them by your pity that they are the sufferers, 
they will think that it is you who are most 
affected by their ailments. And the man who 
loses his daily wage because he is ill complains 
of his loss and not of his ailment. His own 
identity is half hidden from him by the practical 
wants of his life. 

Had Marie been disappointed in her love 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 139 

without the appearance of any rival suitor, no 
one would have ever heard of her love. Had 
George Yoss married, she would have gone on 
with her work without a sign of outward sorrow ; 
or had he died, she would have wept for him 
with no peculiar tears. She did not expect 
much from the world around her, beyond this, 
that the guests should not complain about their 
suppers as long as the suppers provided were 
reasonably good. Had no great undertaking 
been presented to her, the performance of no 
heavy task demanded from her, she would have 
gone on with her work without showing even 
by the altered colour of her cheek that she was a 
sufferer. But this other man had come, — this 
Adrian Urmand; and a great undertaking was 
presented to her, and the performance of a heavy 
task was demanded from her. Then it was ne- 
cessary that there should be identity of self and 
introspection. She had to ask herself whether 
the task was practicable, whether its performance 
was within the scope of her powers. She told 
herself at first that it was not to be done ; that 
it was one which she would not even attempt. 
Then as she looked at it more frequently, as she 



140 THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPERE. 

came to understand how great was the urgency 
of her uncle ; as she came to find, in performing 
that task of introspection, how unimportant a 
person she was herself, she began to think that 
the attempt might be made. c I suppose it had 
better be so,' she had said. "What was she that 
she should stand in the way of so many wishes ? 
As she had worked for her bread in her uncle's 
house at Granpere, so would she work for her 
bread in her husband's house at Basle. No 
doubt there were other things to be joined to 
her work, — things the thought of which dis- 
mayed her. She had fought against them for a 
while; but, after all, what was she, that she 
should trouble the world by fighting? When 
she got to Basle she would endeavour to see that 
the bread should rise there, and the wine be 
sufficient, and the supper such as her husband 
might wish it to be. 

Was it not the manifest duty of every girl to 
act after this fashion ? Were not all marriages 
so arranged in the world around her? Among 
the Protestants of Alsace, as she knew, there 
w T as some greater latitude of choice than was 
ever allowed by the stricter discipline of Eoman 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEEE. 141 

Catholic education. But then she was a Eoman 
Catholic, as was her aunt ; and she was too 
proud and too grateful to claim any peculiar 
exemption from the Protestantism of her uncle. 
She had resolved during those early hours of the 
morning that i it had better be so.' She thought 
that she could go through with it all, if only 
they would not tease her, and ask her to wear 
her Sunday frock, and force her to sit down with 
them at table. Let them settle the day — with 
a word or two thrown in by herself to increase 
the distance — and she would be absolutely sub- 
missive, on condition that nothing should be re- 
quired of her till the day should come. There 
would be a bad week or two then while she was 
being carried off to her new home ; but she had 
looked forward and had told herself that she 
would fill her mind with the care of one man's 
house, as she had hitherto filled it with the care 
of the house of another man. 

1 So it is all right,' said her aunt, rushing 
up to her with warm congratulations, ready to 
flatter her, prone to admire her. It would be 
something to have a niece married to Adrian 
Urmand, the successful young merchant of Basle. 



142 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEEE. 

Marie Bromar was already in her aunt's eyes 
something different from her former self. 

' I hope so, aunt.' 

'Hope so; but it is so, you have accepted him ?' 

c I hope it is right, I mean.' 

1 Of course it is right,' said Madame Yoss. 
' How can it be wrong for a girl to accept the 
man whom all her friends wish her to marry? 
It must be right. And your uncle will be so 
happy.' 

c Dear uncle !' 

' Yes, indeed. He has been so good ; and it 
has made me wretched to see that he has been 
disturbed. He has been as anxious that you 
should be settled well, as though you had been 
his own. And this will be to be settled well. I 
am told that M. Urmand's house is one of those 
which look down upon the river from near the 
church; the very best position in all the town. 
And it is full of everything, they say. His father 
spared nothing for furniture when he was mar- 
ried. And they say that his mother's linen was 
quite a sight to be seen. And then, Marie, 
everybody acknowledges that he is such a nice- 
looking young man !' 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPEEE. 143 

But it was not a part of Marie's programme 
to be waked up to enthusiasm — at any rate by 
her aunt. She said little or nothing, and would 
not even condescend to consider that interesting 
question, of the day of the wedding. 6 There is 
quite time enough for all that, Aunt Josey,' she 
said, as she got up to go about her work. Aunt 
Josey was almost inclined to resent such usage, 
and would have done so, had not her respect for 
her niece been so great. 

Michel did not return till near seven, and 
walking straight through his wife's room to 
Marie's seat of office, came upon his niece be- 
fore he had seen any one else. There was an 
angry look about his brow, for he had been try- 
ing to teach himself that he was ill-used by his 
niece, in spite of that half-formed resolution to 
release her from persecution if she were still 
firm in her opposition to the marriage. c Well,' 
he said, as soon as he saw her, — c well, how is 
it to be ?' She got off her stool, and coming 
close to him put up her face to be kissed. He 
understood it all in a moment, and the whole 
tone and colour of his countenance was altered. 
There was no man whose face would become 



144 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRAXPEEE. 

more radiant with satisfaction than that of Mi- 
chel Voss — when he was satisfied. Please him 
— and immediately there would be an effort on 
his part to please everybody around him. ' M} T 
darling, my own one,' he said, 'it is all right.' 
She kissed him again and pressed his arm, but 
said not a word. ' I am so glad,' he exclaimed ; 
c I am so glad !' And he knocked off his cap 
with his hand, not knowing what he was doing. 
' We shall have but a poor house without you, 
Marie — a very poor house. But it is as it ought 
to be. I have felt for the last year or two, as 
you have sprung up to be such a woman among 
us, my dear, that there was only one place fit 
for such a one. It is proper that you should 
be mistress wherever you are. It has wounded 
me — I don't mind saying it now — it has wounded 
me to see you waiting on the sort of people that 
come here.' 

' I have only been too happy, uncle, in do- 
ing it.' 

4 That's all very well; that's all very well, 
my dear. But I am older than you, and time 
goes quick with me. I tell you it made me 
unhappy. I thought I wasn't doing my duty 



THE GOLDEN LIOX OF GRANPERE. 145 

by you. I was beginning to know that you 
ought to have a house and servants of your 
own. People say that it is a great match for 
you; but I tell them that it is a great match 
for him. Perhaps it is because you've been 
my own in a way, but I don't see any girl 
like you round the country.' 

'You shouldn't say such things to flatter 
me, Uncle Michel.' 

' I choose to say what I please, and think 
what I please, about my own girl,' he said, 
with his arm close wound round her. • I say 
it's a great match for Adrian Urmand, and I 
am quite sure that he will not contradict me. 
He has had sense enough to know what sort 
of a young woman will make the best wife for 
him, and I respect him for it. I shall always 
respect Adrian Urmand because he has known 
better than to take up with one of your town- 
bred girls, who never learn anything except 
how to flaunt about with as much finery on 
their backs as they can get their people to 
give them. He might have had the pick of 
them at Basle, — or at Strasbourg either, for 
the matter of that; but he has thought my 

L 



146 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEEE. 

girl better than them all; and I love him for it 
— so I do. It was to be expected that a young 
fellow with means to please himself should 
choose to have a good-looking wife to sit at his 
table with him. Who'll blame him for that? 
And he has found the prettiest in all the 
country round. But he has wanted something 
more than good looks, — and he has got a great 
deal more. Yes; I say it, I, Michel Toss, 
though I am your uncle; — that he has got the 
pride of the whole country round. My darling, 
my own one, my child !' 

All this was said with many interjections, 

and with sundry pauses in the speech, during 

which Michel caressed his niece, and pressed 

her to his breast, and signified his joy by all 

the outward modes of expression which a man 

so demonstrative knows how to use. This was 

a moment of great triumph to him, because 

he had begun to despair of success in this 

matter of the marriage, and had told himself on 

this very morning that the affair was almost 

hopeless. While he had been up in the wood, 

he had asked himself how he would treat 

Marie in consequence of her disobedience to 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 147 

him ; and lie had at last succeeded in pro- 
ducing within his own breast a state of mind 
that was not perhaps very reasonable, but 
which was consonant with his character. He 
would let her know that he was angry with 
her, — very angry with her; that she had half 
broken his heart by her obstinacy; but after 
that she should be to him his own Marie again. 
He would not throw her off, because she dis- 
obeyed him. He could not throw her off, be- 
cause he loved her, and knew of no way by 
which he could get rid of his love. But he 
would be very angry, and she should know of 
his anger. He had come home wearing a black 
cloud on his brow, and intending to be black. 
But all that was changed in a moment, and his 
only thought now was how to give pleasure to 
this dear one. It is something to have a niece 
who brings such credit on the family ! 

Marie as she listened to his praise and his 
ecstasies, knowing by a sure instinct every turn 
of his thoughts, tried to take joy to herself in 
that she had given joy to him. Though he was 
her uncle, and had in fact been her master, 
he was actually the one real friend whom she 



148 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANFERE. 

had made for herself in her life. There had 
been a month or two of something more than 
friendship with George Voss; but she was too 
wise to look much at that now. Michel Yoss 
was the one being in the world whom she 
knew best, of whom she thought most, whose 
thoughts and wishes she had most closely stu- 
died, whose interests were ever present to her 
mind. Perhaps it may be said of every hnman 
heart in a sound condition that it must be 
specially true to some other one human heart ; 
but it may certainly be so said of. every female 
heart. The object may be changed from time 
to time, — may be changed very suddenly, as 
when a girl's devotion is transferred with the 
consent of all her friends from her mother to 
her lover; or very slowly, as when a mother's is 
transferred from her husband to some favourite 
child; but, unless self- worship be predominant, 
there is always one friend to whom the wo- 
man's breast is true, — for whom it is the 
woman's joy to offer herself in sacrifice. Now 
with Marie Bromar that one being had been 
her uncle. She prospered, if he prospered. 
His comfort was her comfort. Even when his 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 149 

palate was pleased, there was some gratifica- 
tion akin to animal enjoyment on her part. 
It was ease to her, that he shonld be at his 
ease in his arm-chair. It was mirth to her, that 
he should laugh. When he was contented she 
was satisfied. When he was ruffled she was 
never smooth. Her sympathy with him was 
perfect; and now that he was radiant with 
triumph, though his triumph came from his 
victory over herself, she could not deny him 
the pleasure of triumphing with him. 

'Dear uncle,' she said, still caressing him, 
i I am so glad that you are pleased.' 

£ Of course it will be a poor house without 
you, Marie. As for me, it will be just as 
though I had lost my right leg and my right 
arm. But what ! A man is not always to be 
thinking of himself. To see jou treated by all 
the world as you ought to be treated, — as I 
should choose that my own daughter should 
be treated, — that is what I have desired. Some- 
times when I've thought of it all when I've 
been alone, I have been mad with myself for 
letting it go on as it has done.' 

' It has gone on very nicely, I think, Uncle 



150 THE GOLDEN LION OP GRANPERE. 

Michel.' She knew how worse than useless it 
would be now to try and make him under- 
stand that it would be better for them both 
that she should remain with him. She knew, 
to the moving of a feather, what she could do 
with him and what she could not. Her im- 
mediate wish was to enable him to draw all 
possible pleasure from his triumph of the day, 
and therefore she would say no word to signify 
that his glory was founded on her sacrifice. 

Then again came up the question of her 
position at supper, but there was no difficulty 
in the arrangement made between them. The 
one gala evening of grand dresses — the evening 
which had been intended to be a gala, but 
which had turned out to be almost funereal — - 
was over. Even Michel Yoss himself did not 
think it necessary that Marie should come in 
to supper with her silk dress two nights 
running ; and he himself had found that that 
changing of his coat had impaired his comfort. 
He could eat his dinner and his supper in his 
best clothes on Sunday, and not feel the in- 
convenience; but on other occasions those un- 
accustomed garments were as heavy to him as 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 151 

a suit of armour. There was, therefore, nothing 
more said about clothes. Marie was to dispense 
her soup as usual, — expressing a confident 
assurance that if Peter were as yet to attempt 
this special branch of duty, the whole supper 
would collapse, — and then she was to take her 
place at the table, next to her uncle. Every- 
body in the house, everybody in Granpere, 
knew that the marriage had been arranged, 
and the old lady who had been so dreadfully 
snubbed by Marie, had forgiven the offence, 
acknowledging that Marie's position on that 
evening had been one of difficulty. 

But these arrangements had reference only 
to two days. After two days, Adrian was to 
return to Basle, and to be seen no more at 
Granpere till he came to claim his bride. In 
regard to the choice of the day, Michel de- 
clared roundly that no constraint should be put 
upon Marie. She should have her full privi- 
leges, and no one should be allowed to in- 
terfere with her. On this point Marie had 
brought herself to be almost indifferent. A 
long engagement was a state of things which 
would have been quite incompatible with such 



lo2 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

a betrothal. Any delay that could have been 
effected would have been a delay, not of months, 
but of days, — or at most of a week or two. 
She had made up her mind that she would 
not be afraid of her wedding. She would teach 
herself to have no dread either of the man or of 
the thing. He was not a bad man, and mar- 
riage in itself was honourable. She formed 
ideas also of some future true friendship for 
her husband. She would endeavour to have 
a true solicitude for his interests, and would 
take care, at any rate, that nothing was squan- 
dered that came into her hands. Of what avail 
would it be to her that she should postpone for 
a few days the beginning of a friendship that 
was to last all her life ? Such postponement 
could only be induced by a dread of the man, 
and she was firmly determined that she would 
not dread him. When they asked her, there- 
fore, she smiled and said very little. What 
did her aunt think ? 

Her aunt thought that the marriage should 
be settled for the earliest possible day, — though 
she never quite expressed her thoughts. Ma- 
dame Voss, though she did not generally ob- 



THE GOLDEN LION OF ORAXPEKE. 153 

tain much credit for clear seeing, had a clearer 
insight to the state of her niece's mind than 
had her husband. She still believed that 
Marie's heart was not with Adrian Urmancl. 
But, attributing perhaps no very great im- 
portance to a young girl's heart, and fancying 
that she knew that in this instance the young 
girl's heart could not have its own way, she 
was quite in favour of the Urniand marriage. 
And if they were to be married, the sooner 
the better. Of that she had no doubt. 'It's 
best to have it over always as soon as pos- 
sible,' .she said to her husband in private, 
nodding her head, and looking much wiser 
than usual. 

' I won't have Marie hurried/ said Michel. 

'We had better say some day next month, 
my dear/ said Madame Yoss, again nodding her 
head. Michel, struck by the peculiarity of her 
voice, looked into her face, and saw the unac- 
customed wisdom. He made no answer, but 
after a while nodded his head also, and went 
out of the room a man convinced. There were 
matters between women, he thought, which men 
can never quite understand. It would be very 



154 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

bad if there should be any slip here between 
the cup and the lip ; and, no doubt, his wife 
was right. 

It was Madame Yoss at last who settled the 
day, — the 15th of October, just four weeks from 
the present time. This she did in concert with 
Adrian Urmand, who, however, was very docile 
in her hands. Urmand, after he had been ac- 
cepted, soon managed to bring himself back to 
that state of mind in which he had before re- 
garded the possession of Marie Bromar as very 
desirable. For some four-and-twenty hours, dur- 
ing which he had thought himself to be ill-used, 
and had meditated a retreat from Granpere, he 
had contrived to teach himself that he might 
possibly live without her ; but as soon as he was 
accepted, and when the congratulations of the 
men and women of Granpere were showered 
down upon him in quick succession, — so that the 
fact that the thing was to be became assured to 
him, — he soon came to fancy again that he was 
a man as successful in love as he was in the 
world's good, and that this acquisition of Marie's 
hand was a treasure in which he could take de- 
light. He undoubtedly would be ready by the 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPEEE. 155 

day named, and would go home and prepare 
everything for Marie's arrival. 

They were very little together as lovers dur- 
ing those two days, but it was necessary that 
there should be an especial parting. ' She is 
up- stairs in the little sitting-room,' Aunt Josey 
said; and up-stairs to the little sitting-room 
Adrian Urmancl went. 

' I am come to say good-bye,' said Urmand. 

' Good-bye, Adrian,' said Marie, putting both 
her hands in his, and offering her cheek to be 
kissed. 

1 I shall come back with such joy for the 
15th,' said he. 

She smiled, and kissed his cheek, and still 
held his hand. 'Adrian,' she said. 

1 My love ? 

' As I believe in the dear Jesus, I will do 
my best to be a good wife to you.' Then he 
took her in his arms, and kissed her close, and 
went out of the room with tears streaming down 
his cheeks. He knew now that he was in truth 
a happy man, and that God had been good to 
him in this matter of his future wife. 



CHAPTEE X. 

c So your cousin Marie is to be married to Adrian 
Urmand, the young linen - merchant at Basle/ 
said Madame Faragon one morning to George 
Yoss. In this manner were the first assured 
tidings of the coming marriage conveyed to the 
rival lover. This occurred a day or two after 
the betrothal, when Adrian was back at Basle. 
No one at Granpere had thought of writing an 
express letter to George on the subject. George's 
father might have done so, had the writing of 
letters been a customary thing with him ; but 
his correspondence was not numerous, and such 
letters as he did write were short, and always 
confined to matters concerning his trade. Ma- 
dame Yoss had, however, sent a special message 
to Madame Faragon, as soon as Adrian had gone, 
thinking that it would be well that in this way 
George should learn the truth. 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEEE. 157 

It had been fully arranged by this time that 
George Yoss was to be the landlord of the hotel 
at Colmar on and from the first day of the fol- 
lowing year. Madame Faragon was to be al- 
lowed to sit in the little room downstairs, to 
scold the servants, and to make the strangers 
from a distance believe that her authority was 
unimpaired. She was also to receive a moder- 
ate annual pension in money in addition to her 
board and lodging. For these considerations, and 
on condition that George Yoss should expend a 
certain sum of money in renewing the faded 
glories of the house, he was to be the landlord 
in full enjoyment of all real power on the first 
of January following. Madame Faragon, when 
she had expressed her agreement to the arrange- 
ment, which was indeed almost in all respects 
one of her own creation, wept and wheezed and 
groaned bitterly. She declared that she would 
soon be dead, and so trouble him no more. 
Nevertheless, she especially stipulated that she 
should have a new arm-chair for her own use, 
and that the feather bed in her own chamber 
should be renewed. 

' So your cousin Marie is to be married to 



158 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

Adrian Urmand, the young linen-merchant at 
Basle,' said Madame Faragon. 

'Who says so?' demanded George. He asked 
his question in a quiet voice ; but, though the 
news had reached him thus suddenly, he had 
sufficient control over himself to prevent any 
plain expression of his feelings. The thing 
which had been told him had gone into his 
heart like a knife; but he did not intend that 
Madame Faragon should know that he had been 
wounded. 

' It is quite true. There is no doubt about 
it. Stodel's man with the roulage brought me 
word direct from your step -mother.' George 
immediately began to inquire within himself 
why Stodel's man with the roulage had not 
brought some word direct to him, and answered 
the question to himself not altogether incor- 
rectly. '0, yes,' continued Madame Faragon, 
'it is quite true — on the 15th of October. I 
suppose you will be going over to the wedding.' 
This she said in her usual whining tone of small 
complaint, signifying thereby how great would 
be the grievance to herself to be left alone at 
that special time. 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 159 

' I shall not go to the wedding, ' said George. 
'They can be married, if they are to be mar- 
ried, without me.' 

f They are to be married ; you may be quite 
sure of that.' Madame Faragon's grievance now 
consisted in the amount of doubt which was 
being thrown on the tidings which had been 
sent direct to her. ' Of course you will choose 
to have a doubt, because it is I who tell you.' 

' I do not doubt it at all. I think it is very 
likely. I was well aware before that my father 
wished it.' 

' Of course he would wish it, George. How 
should he not wish it? Marie Bromar never 
had a franc of her own in her life, and it is 
not to be expected that he, with a family of 
young children at his heels, is to give her a 

dot: 

' He will give her something. He will treat 
her as though she were a daughter.' 

4 Then I think he ought not. But your 
father was always a romantic, headstrong man. 
At any rate, there she is, — bar-maid, as we may 
say, in the hotel, — much the same as our Flo- 
schen here ; and, of course, such a marriage as 



1G0 THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPERE. 

this is a great thing ; a very great thing, in- 
deed. How should they not wish it ?' 

' 0, if she likes him — !' 

' Like him ? Of course, she will like him. 
Why should she not like him? Young, and 
good-looking, with a fine business, doesn't owe 
a sou, I'll be bound, and with a houseful of 
furniture. Of course, she'll like him. I don't 
suppose there is so much difficulty about that.' 

'I daresay not,' said George. 'I believe 
that women's likings go after that fashion, for 
the most part.' 

Madame Paragon, not understanding this 
general sarcasm against her sex, continued the 
expression of her opinion about the coming 
marriage. i I don't suppose anybody will think 
of blaming Marie Bromar for accepting the 
match when it was proposed to her. Of course, 
she would do as she was bidden, and could 
hardly be expected to say that the man was 
above her.' 

'He is not above her,' said George in a 
hoarse voice. 

'Marie Bromar is nothing to you, George; 
nothing in blood; nothing beyond a most dis- 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 161 

tant cousin. They do say that she has grown 
up good-looking.' 

1 Yes ; — she is a handsome girl.' 

i When I remember her as a child she was 
broad and dumpy, and they always come back 
at last to what they were as children. But of 
course M. Urmand only looks to what she is 
now. She makes her hay while the sun shines ; 
but I hope the people won't say that your father 
has caught him at the Lion d'Or, and taken 
him in.' 

' My father is not the man to care very much 
what anybody says about such things.' 

1 Perhaps not so much as he ought, George,' 
said Madame Paragon, shaking her head. 

After that George Yoss went about the house 
for some hours, doing his work, giving his 
orders, and going through the usual routine of 
his day's business. As he did so, no one guessed 
that his mind was disturbed. Madame Fara- 
gon had not the slightest suspicion that the 
matter of Marie's marriage was a cause of sor- 
row to him. She had felt the not unnatural 
envy of a woman's mind in such an affair, and 
could not help expressing it, although Marie 

31 



162 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

Bromar was in some sort connected with her- 
self. But she was sure that such an arrange- 
ment would be regarded as a family triumph 
by George, — unless, indeed, he should be in- 
clined to quarrel with his father for over-gene- 
rosity in that matter of the dot. ' It is lucky 
that you got your little bit of money before 
this affair was settled,' said she. 

' It would not have made the difference of 
a copper sou,' said George Voss, as he walked 
angrily out of the old woman's room. This was 
in the evening, after supper, and the greater 
part of the day had passed since he had first 
heard the news. Up to the present moment 
he had endeavoured to shake the matter off 
from him, declaring to himself that grief — or 
at least any outward show of grief — would be 
unmanly and unworthy of him. With a strong 
resolve he had fixed his mind upon the affairs 
of his house, and had allowed himself to medi- 
tate as little as might be possible. But the 
misery, the agony, had been then present with 
him during all those hours, — and had been made 
the sharper by his endeavours to keep it down 
and banish it from his thoughts. Now, as he 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPEEE. 163 

went out from Madame Paragon's room, hay- 
ing finished all that it was his duty to do, he 
strolled into the town, and at once began to 
give way to his thoughts. Of course he mnst 
think about it. He acknowledged that it was 
useless for him to attempt to get rid of the 
matter and let it be as though there were no 
such persons in the world as Marie Bromar and 
Adrian Urmand. He must think about it ; but 
he might so give play to his feelings that no 
one should see him in the moments of his 
wretchedness. He went out, therefore, among 
the dark walks in the town garden, and there, 
as he paced one alley after another in the gloom, 
he revelled in the agony which a passionate 
man feels when the woman whom he loves is 
to be given into the arms of another. 

As he thought of his own life during the 
past year or fifteen months, he could not but 
tell himself that his present suffering was due 
in some degree to his own fault. If he really 
loved this girl, and if it had been his intention 
to try and win her for himself, why had he 
taken his father at his word and gone away 
from Granpere? And why, having left Gran- 



164 THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPEEE. 

pere, had lie taken no trouble to let her know 
that he still loved her ? As he asked himself 
these questions, he was hardly able himself to 
understand the pride which had driven him 
away from his old home, and which had kept 
him silent so long. She had promised him that 
she would be true to him. Then had come 
those few words from his father's mouth, words 
which he thought his father should never have 
spoken to him, and he had gone away, telling 
himself that he would come back and fetch her 
as soon as he could offer her a home inde- 
pendently of his father. If, after the promises 
she had made to him, she would not wait for 
him without farther words and farther vows, she 
would not be worth the having. In going, he 
had not precisely told himself that there should 
be no intercourse between them for twelve 
months ; but the silence which he had main- 
tained, and his continued absence, had been the 
consequence of the mood of his mind and the 
tenor of his purpose. The longer he had been 
away from Granpere without tidings from any 
one there, the less possible had it been that he 
should send tidings from himself to his old 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GBANPERE. 165 

home. He had not expected messages. He had 
not expected any letter. But when nothing 
came, he told himself over and over again that 
he too would be silent, and would bide his 
time. Then Edmoncl Greisse had come to Col- 
mar, and brought the first rumour of Adrian 
Urmand's proposal of marriage. 

The reader will perhaps remember that 
George, when he heard this first rumour, had 
at once made up his mind to go over to Gran- 
pere, and that he went. He went to Granpere 
partly believing, and partly disbelieving Ed- 
moncVs story. If it were untrue, perhaps she 
might say a word to him that would comfort 
him and give him new hope. If it were true, 
she would have to tell him so ; and then he 
would say a word to her that should tear her 
heart, if her heart was to be reached. But he 
would never let her know that she had torn his 
own to rags ! That was the pride of his manli- 
ness ; and yet he was so boyish as not to know 
that it should have been for him to make those 
overtures for a renewal of love, which he hoped 
that Marie would make to him. He had gone 
over to Granpere, and the reader will perhaps 



166 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

again remember what had passed then between 
him and Marie. Just as he was leaving her he 
had asked her whether she was to be married to 
this man. He had made no objection to such 
a marriage. He had spoken no word of the con- 
stancy of his own affection. In his heart there 
had been anger against her because she had 
spoken no such word to him, — as of course 
there was also in her heart against him, very 
bitter and very hot. If he wished her to be 
true to him, why did he not say so ? If he had 
given her up, why did he come there at all? 
Why did he ask any questions about her mar- 
riage, if on his own behalf he had no statement 
to make, — no assurance to give ? "What was her 
marriage, or her refusal to be married, to him ? 
Was she to tell him that, as he had deserted her, 
and as she could not busy herself to overcome 
her love, therefore she was minded to wear the 
willow for ever ? l If my uncle and aunt choose 
to dispose of me, I cannot help it,' she had said. 
Then he had left her, and she had been sure 
that for him that early game of love was a game 
altogether played out. Now, as he walked along 
the dark paths of the town garden, something of 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 167 

the truth came upon him. He made no excuse 
for Marie Bromar. She had given him a vow, 
and should have been true to her vow, so he said 
to himself a dozen times. He had never been 
false. He had shown no sign of falseness. True 
of heart, he had remained away from her only 
till he might come and claim her, and bring her 
to a house that he could call his own. This also 
he told himself a dozen times. Eat, neverthe- 
less, there was a very agony of remorse, a weight 
of repentance, in that he had not striven to make 
sure of his prize when he had been at Granpere 
before the marriage was settled. Had she loved 
him as she ought to have loved him, had she 
loved him as he loved her, there should have 
been no question possible to her of marriage with 
another man. But still he repented, in that he 
had lost that which he desired, and might per- 
haps have then obtained it for himself. 

But the strong feeling of his breast, the 
strongest next to his love, was a desire to be 
revenged. He cared little now for his father, 
little for that personal dignity which he had 
intended to return by his silence, little for pe- 
cuniary advantages and prudential motives, in 



168 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

comparison with his strong desire to punish 
Marie for her perfidy. He would go over to 
Granpere, and fall among them like a thunder- 
bolt. Like a thunderbolt, at any rate, he would 
fall upon the head of Marie Bromar. The very 
words of her love-promises were still firm in 
his memory, and he would see if she also could 
be made to remember them. 

' I shall go over to Granpere the day after 
to-morrow,' he said to Madame Faragon, as he 
caught her just before she retired for the night. 

c To Granpere the day after to-morrow ? And 
why ?' 

' Well, I don't know that I can say exactly 
why. I shall not be at the marriage, but I 
should like to see them first. I shall go the day 
after to-morrow.' 

And he went to Granpere on the day he 
fixed. 



CHAPTEE XL 

' Pkobably one night only, but I won't make any 
promise,' George had said to Madame Paragon 
when she asked him how long he intended to 
stay at Granpere. As he took one of the horses 
belonging to the inn and drove himself, it seemed 
to be certain that he would not stay long. He 
started all alone, early in the morning, and 
reached Granpere about twelve o'clock. His mind 
was full of painful thoughts as he went, and as 
the little animal ran quickly down the mountain 
road into the valley in which Granpere lies, he 
almost wished that his feet were not so fleet. 
What was he to say when he got to Granpere, 
and to whom was he to say it ? 

When he reached the angular court along 
two sides of which the house was built he did 
not at once enter the front door. None of the 



170 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

family were then about the place, and he could, 
therefore, go into the stable and ask a question 
or two of the man who came to meet him. His 
father, the man told him, had gone up early 
to the wood - cutting, and would not probably 
return till the afternoon. Madame Yoss was no 
doubt inside, as was also Marie Bromar. Then 
the man commenced an elaborate account of the 
betrothals. There never had been at Granpere 
any marriage that had been half so important as 
would be this marriage ; no lover coming thither 
had ever been blessed with so beautiful and dis- 
creet a maiden, and no maiden of Granpere had 
ever before had at her feet a lover at the same 
time so good-looking, so wealthy, so sagacious, 
and so good-tempered. The man declared that 
Adrian was the luckiest fellow in the world in 
finding such a wife, but his enthusiasm rose to 
the highest pitch when he spoke of Marie's luck 
in finding such a husband. There was no end 
to the good with which she would be endowed — 
i linen,' said the man, holding up his hands in 
admiration, 'that will last out all her grand- 
children at least !' George listened to it all, 
and smiled, and said a word or two — was it 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPERE. 171 

worth his while to come all the way to Gran- 
pere to throw his thunderbolt at a girl who had 
been captivated by promises of a chest full of 
house linen ! 

George told the man that he would go up to 
the wood-cutting after his father ; but before he 
was out of the court he changed his mind and 
slowly entered the house. Why should he go 
to his father ? What had he to say to his father 
about the marriage that could not be better said 
down at the house ? After all, he had but little 
ground of complaint against his father. It was 
Marie who had been untrue to him, and it was 
on Marie's head that his wrath must fall. No 
doubt his father would be angry with him when 
he should have thrown his thunderbolt. It could 
not, as he thought, be hurled effectually without 
his father's knowledge ; but he need not tell his 
father the errand on which he had come. So he 
changed his mind, and went into the inn. 

He entered the house almost dreading to see 
her whom he was seeking. In what way should 
he first express his wrath? How should he 
show her the wreck which by her inconstancy 
she had made of his happiness ? His first words 



172 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEEE. 

must, if possible, be spoken to her alone ; and 
yet alone lie conld hardly hope to find her. 
And he feared her. Though he was so resolved 
to speak his mind, yet he feared her. Though 
he intended to fill her with, remorse, yet he 
dreaded the effect of her words upon himself. 
He knew how strong she could be, and how 
steadfast. Though his passion told him every 
hour, w T as telling him all clay long, that she was 
as false as hell, yet there was something in him 
of judgment, something rather of instinct, which 
told him also that she was not bad, that she was 
a firm-hearted, high-spirited, great-minded girl, 
who would have reasons to give for the thing 
that she was doing. 

He w r ent through into the kitchen before he 
met any one, and there he found Madame Yoss 
with the cook and Peter. Immediate explana- 
tions had, of course, to be made as to his unex- 
pected arrival; — questions asked, and sugges- 
tions offered — ' Came he in peace, or came he in 
war?' Had he come because he had heard of 
the betrothals? He admitted that it was so. 
' And you arc glad of it ?' asked Madame Yoss. 
1 You will congratulate her with all your heart ?' 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 173 

i I will congratulate her certainly,' said 
George. Then the cook and Peter began with 
a copious flow of domestic eloquence to declare 
how great a marriage this was for the Lion d'Or 
— how pleasing to the master, how creditable to 
the village, how satisfactory to the friends, how 
joyous to the bridegroom, how triumphant to the 
bride ! ' No doubt she will have plenty to eat 
and drink, and fine clothes to wear, and an ex- 
cellent house over her head,' said George in his 
bitterness. 

' And she will be married to one of the most 
respectable young men in all Switzerland,' said 
Madame Yoss in a tone of much anger. It was 
already quite clear to Madame Yoss, to the cook, 
and to Peter, that George had not come over 
from Colmar simply to express his joyous satis- 
faction at his cousin's good fortune. 

He soon walked through into the little sit- 
ting-room, and his step -mother followed him. 
' George,' she said, ' you will displease your 
father very much if you say anything unkind 
about Marie.' 

' I know very well,' said he, 'that my father 
cares more for Marie than he does for me.' 



174 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

'That is not so, George.' 

•I do not blame him for it. She lives in 
the house with him, while I live elsewhere. It 
was natural that she should be more to him 
than I am, after he had sent me away. But 
he has no right to suppose that I can have 
the same feeling that he has about this mar- 
riage. I cannot think it the finest thing in 
the world for all of us that Marie Bromar 
should succeed in getting a rich young man 
for her husband, who, as far as I can see, never 
had two ideas in his head.' 

'He is a most industrious young man, who 
thoroughly understands his business. I have 
heard people say that there is no one comes to 
Granpere who can buy better than he can.' 

' Very likely not.' 

'And at any rate, it is no disgrace to be 
well off.' 

' It is a disgrace to think more about that 
than anything else. But never mind. It is 
no use talking about it, words won't mend it.' 

' Why then have you come here now ?' 

'Because I want to see my father.' Then 
he remembered how false was this excuse ; and 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEKE. 175 

remembered also how soon its falseness would 
appear. < Besides, though I do not like this 
match, I wish to see Marie once again before 
her marriage. I shall never see her after it. 
That is the reason why I have come. I sup- 
pose you can give me a bed.' 

' 0, yes, there are beds enough.' After 
that there was some pause, and Madame Voss 
hardly knew how to treat her step-son. At 
last she asked him whether he would have din- 
ner, and an order was given to Peter to pre- 
pare something for the young master in the 
small room. And George asked after the chil- 
dren, and in this way the dreaded subject was 
for some minutes laid on one side. 

In the mean time, information of George's 
arrival had been taken upstairs to Marie. She 
had often wondered what sign he would make 
when he should hear of her engagement. Would 
he send her a word of affection, or such cus- 
tomary present as would be usual between two 
persons so nearly connected ? Would he come 
to her marriage ? And what would be his own 
feelings? She too remembered well, with ab- 
solute accuracy, those warm, delicious, heavenly 



176 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

words of love which had passed between them. 
She could feel now the pressure of his hand 
and the warmth of his kiss, when she swore to 
him that she would be his for ever and ever. 
After that he had left her, and for a year had 
sent no token. Then he had come again, and 
had simply asked her whether she were en- 
gaged to another man; had asked with a cruel 
indication that he at least intended that the 
old childish words should be forgotten. Now 
he was in the house again, and she would have 
to hear his congratulations ! 

She thought for some quarter of an hour 
what she had better do, and then she deter- 
mined to go down to him at once. The sooner 
the first meeting was over the better. Were 
she to remain away from him till they should 
be brought together at the supper-table, there 
would almost be a necessity for her to explain 
her conduct. She would go down to him and 
treat him exactly as she might have done, had 
there never been any special love between them. 
She would do so as perfectly as her strength 
might enable her; and if she failed in aught, 
it would be better to fail before her aunt than 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 177 

in the presence of her uncle. When she had 
resolved, she waited yet another minute or two, 
and then she went down-stairs. 

As she entered her aunt's room George Voss 
was sitting before the stove, while Madame 
Yoss was in her accustomed chair, and Peter 
was preparing the table for his young master's 
dinner. George arose from his seat at once, 
and then came a look of pain across his face. 
Marie saw it at once, and almost loved him 
the more because he suffered. 'I am so glad 
to see you, George,' she said. ' I am so glad 
that you have come.' 

She had offered him her hand, and of course 
he had taken it. 'Yes,' he said, 'I thought it 
best just to run over. We shall be very busy 
at the hotel before long.' 

'Does that mean to say that you are not 
to be here for my marriage?' This she said 
with her sweetest smile, making all the effort 
in her power to give a gracious tone to her 
voice. It was better, she knew, to plunge at 
the subject at once. 

' No,' said he. ' I shall not be here then. 

'Ah, — your father will miss you so much! 



178 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

But if it cannot be, it is very good of you to 
come now. There would have been something 
sad in going away from the old house without 
seeing you once more. And though Colmar 
and Basle are very near, it will not be the 
same as in the dear old home ; — will it, George ?' 
There was a touch about her voice as she called 
him by his name, that nearly killed him. At 
that moment his hatred was strongest against 
Adrian. Why had such an upstart as that, a 
puny, miserable creature, come between him 
and the only thing that he had ever seen in 
the guise of a woman that could touch his 
heart ? He turned round with his back to the 
table and his face to the stove, and said no- 
thing. But he was able, when he no longer 
saw her, when her voice was not sounding in 
his ear, to swear that the thunderbolt should 
be hurled all the same. His journey to Gran- 
pere should not be made for nothing. <I must 
go now,' she said presently. 'I shall see you 
at supper, shall I not, George, when Uncle will 
be with us ? Uncle Michel will be so delighted 
to find you. And you will tell us of the new 
doings at the hotel. Good-bye for the present, 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEKE. 179 

George.' Then she was gone before he had 
spoken another word. 

He eat his dinner, and smoked a cigar about 
the yard, and then said that he would go out 
and meet his father. He did go out, but did 
not take the road by which he knew that his 
father was to be found. He strolled off to the 
ravine, and came back only when it was dark. 
The meeting between him and his father was 
kindly; but there was no special word spoken, 
and thus they all sat down to supper. 



CHAPTEE XII. 

It became necessary as George Yoss sat at sup- 
per with his father and Madame Yoss that he 
should fix the time of his return to Colmar, and 
he did so for the early morning of the next day 
but one. He had told Madame Faragon that 
he expected to stay at Granpere but one night. 
He felt, however, after his arrival that it might 
be difficult for him to get away on the following 
day, and therefore he told them that he would 
sleep two nights at the Lion d'Or, and then 
start early, so as to reach the Colmar inn by 
mid-day. 

1 1 suppose you find the old lady rather 
fidgety, George ?' said Michel Yoss in high good 
humour. 

George found it easier to talk about Madame 
Faragon and the hotel at Colmar than he did 
of things at Granpere, and therefore became 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 181 

communicative as to his own affairs. Michel 
too preferred the subject of the new doings at 
the house on the other side of the Vosges. His 
wife had given him a slight hint, doing her 
best, like a good wife and discreet manager, to 
prevent ill-humour and hard words. 

4 He feels a little sore, you know. I was 
always sure there was something. But it was 
wise of him to come and see her, and it will go 
off in this way.' 

Michel swore that George had no right to 
be sore, and that if his son did not take pride 
in such a family arrangement as this, he should 
no longer be son of his. But he allowed him- 
self to be counselled by his wife, and soon talked 
himself into a pleasant mood, discussing Madame 
Faragon, and the horses belonging to the Hotel 
de la Poste, and Colmar affairs in general. There 
was a certain important ground for satisfaction 
between them. Everybody agreed that George 
Voss had shown himself to be a steady man of 
business in the affairs of the inn at Colmar. 

Marie Bromar in the mean while went on 
with her usual occupation round the room, but 
now and again came and stood at her uncle's 



182 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

elbow, joining in the conversation, and asking a 
question or two about Madame Faragon. There 
was, perhaps, something of the guile of the ser- 
pent joined to her dove-like softness. She asked 
questions and listened to answers — not that in 
her present state of mind she could bring herself 
to take a deep interest in the affairs of Madame 
Faragon's hotel, but because it suited her that 
there should be some subject of easy conversa- 
tion between her and George. It was absolutely 
necessary now that George should be nothing 
more to her than a cousin and an acquaintance ; 
but it was well that he should be that and not 
an enemy. It would be well too that he should 
know, that he should think that he knew, that 
she was disturbed by no remembrance of those 
words which had once passed between them. 
At last she trusted herself to a remark which 
perhaps she would not have made had the ser- 
pent's guile been more perfect of its kind. 

' Surely you must get a wife, George, as soon 
as the house is your own.' 

' Of course he will get a wife,' said the fa- 
ther. 

< I hope he will get a good one,' said Madame 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPERE. 183 

Yoss after a short pause — which, however, had 
been long enough to make her feel it necessary 
to say something. 

George said never a word, but lifted his glass 
and finished his wine. Marie at once perceived 
that the subject was one on which she must not 
venture to touch again. Indeed, she saw farther 
than that, and became aware that it would be 
inexpedient for her to fall into any special or 
minute conversation with her cousin during his 
short stay at Granpere. 

' You'll go up to the woods with me to- 
morrow — eh, George ?' said the father. The 
son of course assented. It was hardly possible 
that he should not assent. The whole day, 
moreover, would not be wanted for that pur- 
pose of throwing his thunderbolt ; and if he 
could get it thrown, it would be well that he 
should be as far away from Marie as possible 
for the remainder of his visit. ' We'll start 
early, Marie, and have a bit of breakfast before 
we go. "Will six be too early for you, George, 
with your town ways?' George said that six 
would not be too early, and as he made the 
engagement for the morning he resolved that 



184 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

lie would if possible throw his thunderbolt that 
night. ' Marie will get us a cup of coffee and 
a sausage. Marie is always up by that time.' 

Marie smiled, and promised that they should 
not be compelled to start upon their walk with 
empty stomachs from any fault of hers. If a 
hot breakfast at six o'clock in the morning 
could put her cousin into a good humour, it 
certainly should not be wanting. 

In two hours after supper George was with 
his father. Michel was so full of happiness and 
so confidential that the son found it very difficult 
to keep silence about his own sorrow. Had it 
not been that with a half obedience to his wife's 
hints Michel said little about Adrian, there must 
have been an explosion. He endeavoured to 
confine himself to George's prospects, as to 
which he expressed himself thoroughly pleased. 
' You see,' said he, ' I am so strong of my years, 
that if you wished for my shoes, there is no 
knowing how long you might be kept waiting.' 

' It couldn't have been too long,' said George. 

1 Ah well, I don't believe you would have 
been impatient to put the old fellow under the 
sod. But I should have been impatient, I should 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 185 

have been unhappy. You might have had the 
woods, to be sure ; but it's hardly enough of a 
business alone. Besides, a young man is always 
more his own master away from his father. I 
can understand that. The only thing is, George, 
— take a drive over, and see us sometimes.' 
This was all very well, but it was not quite so 
well when he began to speak of Marie. c It's 
a terrible loss her going, you know, George; I 
shall feel it sadly.' 

4 1 can understand that,' said George. 

' But of course I had my duty to do to the 
girl. I had to see that she should be well set- 
tled, and she will be well settled. There's a 
comfort in that ; — isn't there, George ?' 

But George could not bring himself to reply 
to this with good-humoured zeal, and there came 
for a moment a cloud between the father and 
son. But Michel was wise and swallowed his 
wrath, and in a minute or two returned to Col- 
mar and Madame Faragon. 

At about half-past nine George escaped from 
his father and returned to the house. They had 
been sitting in the balcony which runs round 
the billiard-room on the side of the court oppo- 



186 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEEE. 

site to the front door. He returned to the house, 
and caught Marie in one of the passages up- 
stairs, as she was completing her work for the 
day. He caught her close to the door of his 
own room and asked her to come in, that he 
might speak a word to her. English readers will 
perhaps remember that among the Yosges moun- 
tains there is less of a sense of privacy attached 
to bedrooms than is the case with us here in 
England. Marie knew immediately then, that 
her cousin had not come to Granpere for nothing, 
— had not come with the innocent intention of 
simply pleasing his father, — had not come to say 
an ordinary word of farewell to her before her 
marriage. There was to be something of a scene, 
though she could not tell of what nature the 
scene might be. She knew, however, that her 
own conduct had been right; and therefore, 
though she would have avoided the scene, had 
it been possible, she would not fear it. She went 
into his room ; and when he closed the door, she 
smiled, and did not as yet tremble. 

1 Marie,' he said, 'I have come here on pur- 
pose to say a word or two to you. 5 There was no 
smile on her face as he spoke now. The intention 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GXRANPEEE. 187 

to be savage was written there, as plainly as any 
purpose was ever written on man's countenance. 
Marie read the writing without missing a letter. 
She was to be rebuked, and sternly rebuked ; — 
rebuked by the man who had taken her heart, 
and then left her; — rebuked by the man who 
had crushed her hopes and made it absolutely 
necessary for her to give up all the sweet poetry 
of her life, to forget her dreams, to abandon 
every wished-for prettiness of existence, and con- 
fine herself to duties and to things material ! He 
who had so sinned against her was about to rid 
himself of the burden of his sin by endeavouring 
to cast it upon her. So much she understood; 
but yet she did not understand all that was to 
come. She would hear the rebuke as quietly as 
she might. In the interest of others she would 
do so. But she would not fear him, — and she 
would say a quiet word in defence of her own sex 
if there should be need. Such was the purport of 
her mind as she stood opposite to him in his room. 

'I hope they will be kind words,' she said, 
' As we are to part so soon, there should be none 
unkind spoken.' 

< I do not know much about kindness,' he re- 



188 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

plied. Then lie paused and tried to think how 
best the thunderbolt might be hurled. ' There 
is hardly room for kindness where there was once 
so much more than kindness; where there was 
so much more, — or the pretence of it.' Then he 
waited again, as though he expected that she 
should speak. But she would not speak at all. 
If he had aught to say, let him say it. l Perhaps, 
Marie, you have in truth forgotten all the pro- 
mises you once made me ?' Though this was a 
direct question she would not answer it. Her 
words to him should be as few as possible, and 
the time for such words had not come as yet. 
4 It suits you no doubt to forget them now, but 
I cannot forget them. You have been false to 
me, and have broken my heart. You have been 
false to me, when my only joy on earth was in 
believing in your truth. Your vow was for ever 
and ever, and within one short year you are 
betrothed to another man ! And why ? — because 
they tell you that he is rich and has got a house 
full of furniture ! You may prove to be a blessing 
to his house. Who can say ? On mine, you and 
your memory will be a curse, — lasting all my life- 
time !' And so the thunderbolt had been hurled. 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 189 

And it fell as a thunderbolt. What she had 
expected had not been at all like to this. She 
had known that he would rebuke her ; but, feel- 
ing strong in her own innocence and her own 
purity, knowing or thinking that she knew that 
the fault had all been his, not believing — having 
got rid of all belief — that he still loved her, she 
had fancied that his rebuke would be unjust, 
cruel, but bearable. Nay ; she had thought that 
she could almost triumph over him with a short 
word of reply. She had expected from him re- 
proach, but not love. There was reproach indeed, 
but it came with an expression of passion of 
which she had not known him to be capable. 
He stood before her telling her that she had 
broken his heart, and, as he told her so, his 
words were half choked by sobs. He reminded 
her of her promises, declaring that his own to 
her had ever remained in full force. And he 
told her that she, she to whom he had looked for 
all his joy, had become a curse to him and a 
blight upon his life. There were thoughts and 
feelings too beyond all these that crowded them- 
selves upon her heart and upon her mind at the 
moment. It had been possible for her to accept 



190 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

the hand of Adrian Urmand because she had 
become assured that George Voss no longer re- 
garded her as his promised bride. She would 
have stood firm against her uncle and her aunt, 
she would have stood against all the world, had 
it not seemed to her that the evidence of her 
cousin's indifference was complete. Had not that 
evidence been complete at all points, it would 
have been impossible to her to think of becoming 
the wife of another man. Now the evidence on 
that matter which had seemed to her to be so 
sufficient was all blown to the winds. 

It is true that had all her feelings been 
guided by reason only, she might have been as 
strong as ever. In truth she had not sinned 
against him. In truth she had not sinned at all. 
She had not done that which she herself had de- 
sired. She had not been anxious for wealth, or 
ease, or position ; but had, after painful thought, 
endeavoured to shape her conduct by the wishes 
of others, and by her ideas of duty, as duty had 
been taught to her. 0, how willingly would 
she have remained as servant to her uncle, and 
have allowed M. Urmand to carry the rich gift 
of his linen-chest to the feet of some other dam- 



THE GOLDEN LION OP GEANPEEE. 191 

sel, had she believed herself to be free to choose ! 
Had there been no passion in her heart, she 
would now have known herself to be strong in 
duty, and would have been able to have ans- 
wered and to have borne the rebuke of her old 
lover. But passion was there, hot within her, 
aiding every word as he spoke it, giving strength 
to his complaints, telling her of all that she had 
lost, telling her of all she had taken from him. 
She forgot to remember now that he had been 
silent for a year. She forgot now to think of 
the tone in which he had asked about her mar- 
riage when no such marriage was in her mind. 
But she remembered well the promise she had 
made, and the words of it. ' Your vow was for 
ever and ever.' When she heard those words 
repeated from his lips, her heart too was broken. 
All idea of holding herself before him as one in- 
jured but ready to forgive was gone from her. 
If by falling at his feet and owning herself to be 
vile and mansworn she might get his pardon, she 
was ready now to lie there on the ground before 
him. 

' George !' she said ; ' George !' 

* What is the use of that now ?' he replied, 



192 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

turning away from her. He had thrown his 
thunderbolt, and he had nothing more to say. 
He had seen that he had not thrown it quite in 
vain, and he would have been contented to be 
away and back at Colmar. What more was there 
to be said ? 

She came to him very gently, very humbly, 
and just touched his arm with her hand. c Do 
you mean, George, that you have continued to 
care for me — always ?' 

' Care for you ? I know not what you call 
caring. Did I not swear to you that I would 
love you for ever and ever, and that you should 
be my own ? Did I not leave this house and go 
away, — till I could earn for you one that should 
be fit for you, — because I loved you ? Why 
should I have broken my word? I do not be- 
lieve that you thought that it was broken.' 

'By my God, that knows me, I did!' As 
she said this she burst into tears and fell on her 
knees at his feet. 

'Marie,' he said, ' Marie; — there is no use 
in this. Stand up.' 

'Not till you tell me that you will forgive 
me. By the name of the good Jesus, who 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GKANPERE. 193 

knows all our hearts, I thought that you had 
forgotten me. George, if you could know 
all ! If you could know how I have loved 
you; how I have sorrowed from day to day 
because I was forgotten ! How I have strug- 
gled to bear it, telling myself that you were 
away, with all the world to interest you, and 
not like me, a poor girl in a village, with no- 
thing to think of but my lover ! How I have 
striven to do my duty by my uncle, and have 
obeyed him, because, — because, — because, there 
was nothing left. If you could know it all! 
If you could know it all !' Then she clasped 
her arms round his legs, and hid her face upon 
his feet. 

'And whom do you love now?' he asked. 
She continued to sob, but did not answer him 
a word. Then he stooped down and raised her 
to her feet, and she stood beside him, very 
near to him with her face averted. 'And 
whom do you love now V he asked again. c Is 
it me, or is it Adrian Urmand ?' But she could 
not answer him, though she had said enough 
in her passionate sorrow to make any answer 
to such a question unnecessary, as far as know- 

o 



194 THE GOLDEN LION OF GKANPERE. 

ledge on the subject might be required. It 
might suit his views that she should confess 
the truth in so many words, but for other pur- 
pose her answer had been full enough. 'This 
is very sad,' he said, c sad indeed; but I thought 
that you would have been firmer.' 
' Do not chide me again, George. 5 
1 No ; — it is to no purpose.' 
' You said that I was — a curse to you ?' 
'0 Marie, I had hoped, — I had so hoped, 
that you would have been my blessing !' 

4 Say that I am not a curse to you, George !' 
But he would make no answer to this ap- 
peal, no immediate answer; but stood silent 
and stern, while she stood still touching his 
arm, waiting in patience for some word at any 
rate of forgiveness. He was using all the 
powers of his mind to see if there might even 
yet be any way to escape this great shipwreck. 
She had not answered his question. She had 
not told him in so many words that her heart 
was still his, though she had promised her 
hand to the Easle merchant. But he could 
not doubt that it was so. As he stood there 
silent, with that dark look upon his brow which 



THE GOLDEN" LION OF GRANPERE. 195 

lie had inherited from his father, and that 
angry fire in his eye, his heart was in truth 
once more becoming soft and tender towards 
her. He was beginning to understand how it 
had been with her. He had told her, just 
now, that he did not believe her, when she 
assured him that she had thought that she 
was forgotten. Now he did believe her. And 
there arose in his breast a feeling that it was 
due to her that he should explain this change 
in his mind. 'I suppose you did think it,' he 
said suddenly. 

6 Think what, George?' 

'That I was a vain, empty, false -tongued 
fellow, whose word was worth no reliance.' 

c I thought no evil of you, George, — except 
that you were changed to me. When you 
came, you said nothing to me. Do you not 
remember ?' 

i I came because I was told that you were 
to be married to this man. I asked you the 
question, and you would not deny it. Then I 
said to myself that I would wait and see.' 
When he had spoken she had nothing farther 
to say to him. The charges which he made 



196 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEKE. 

against lier were all true. They seemed at 
least to "be true to her then in her present 
mood, — in that mood in which all that she 
now desired was his forgiveness. The wish to 
defend herself, and to stand before him as one 
justified, had gone from her. She felt that 
having still possessed his love, having still been 
the owner of the one thing that she valued, 
she had ruined herself by her own doubts ; and 
she could not forgive herself the fatal blunder. 
'It is of no use to think of it any more,' he 
said at last. 'You have to become this man's 
wife now, and I suppose you must go through 
with it.' 

' 1 suppose I must,' she said ; i unless — ' 

' Unless what ?' 

'Nothing, George. Of course I will marry 
him. He has my word. And I have promised 
my uncle also. But, George, you will say that, 
you forgive me ?' 

'Yes; — I will forgive you.' But still there 
was the same black cloud upon his face, — the 
same look of pain, — the same glance of anger in 
his eye. 

' George, I am so unhappy ! There can be 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 197 

no comfort for me now, nnless yon will say that 
yon will be contented.' 

' 1 cannot say that, Marie.' 

'Yon will have yonr house, and your busi- 
ness, and so many things to interest you. And 
in time, — after a little time — ' 

'No, Marie, after no time at all. You told 
me at supper to-night that I had better get a 
wife for myself. Eut I will get no wife. I could 
not bring myself to marry another girl, I could 
not take a woman home as my wife if I did not 
love her. If she were not the person of all per- 
sons most dear to me, I should loathe her.' 

He was speaking daggers to her, and he must 
have known how sharp were his words. He was 
speaking daggers to her, and she must have felt 
that he knew how he was wounding her. But 
yet she did not resent his usage, even by a 
motion of her lip. Could she have brought her- 
self to do so, her agony would have been less 
sharp. ' I suppose,' she said at last, ' that a 
woman is weaker than a man. But you say that 
you will forgive me ?' 

1 1 have forgiven you.' 

Then very gently . she put out her hand to 



198 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEEE. 

him, and he took it and held it for a minute. 
She looked up at him as though for a moment 
she had thought that there might he something 
else, — that there might be some other token of 
true forgiveness, and then she withdrew her 
hand. c I had better go now,' she said. i Good- 
night, George.' 

' Good-night, Marie.' And then she was gone. 

As soon as he was alone he sat himself down 
on the bedside, and began to think of it. Every- 
thing was changed to him since he had called 
her into the room, determining that he would 
crush her with his thunderbolt. Let things go 
as they may with a man in an affair of love, let 
him be as far as possible from the attainment of 
his wishes, there will always be consolation to 
him if he knows that he is loved. To be pre- 
ferred to all others, even though that preference 
may lead to no fruition, is in itself a thing en- 
joyable. He had believed that Marie had for- 
gotten him, — that she had been captivated either 
by the effeminate prettiness of his rival, or by 
his wealth and standing in the world. He be- 
lieved all this no more. He knew now how it 
was with her and with him, and, let his coun- 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 199 

tenance say what it might to the contrary, he 
could bring himself to forgive her in his heart. 
She had not forgotten him ! She had not ceased 
to love him ! There was merit in that which 
went far with him in excuse of her perfidy. 

But what should he do now ? She was not 
as yet married to Adrian Urmancl. Might there 
not still be hope ; — hope for her sake as well as 
for his own ? He perfectly understood that in his 
country — nay, for aught he knew to the contrary, 
in all countries — a formal betrothal was half a 
marriage. It was half the ceremony in the eyes 
of all those concerned ; but yet, in regard to that 
indissoluble bond which would indeed have di- 
vided Marie from him beyond the reach of any 
hope to the contrary, such betrothal was of no 
effect whatever. This man whom she did not 
love was not yet Marie's husband ; — need never 
become so if Marie could only be sufficiently 
firm in resisting the influence of all her friends. 
No priest could marry her without her own con- 
sent. He— George — he himself would have to 
face the enmity of all those with whom he was 
connected. He was sure that his father, having 
been a party to the betrothal, would never con- 



200 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

sent to a breach of his promise to Urmancl. Ma- 
dame Voss, Madame Faragon, the priest, and 
their Protestant pastor would all be against them. 
They would be as it were outcasts from their 
own family. But George Voss, sitting there on 
his bedside, thought that he could go through 
it all, if only he could induce Marie Bromar to 
bear the brunt of the world's displeasure with 
him. As he got into bed he determined that he 
would begin upon the matter to his father during 
the morning's walk. His father would be full of 
wrath; — but the wrath would have to be en- 
dured sooner or later. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

On the next morning Michel Yoss and his son 
met in the kitchen, and fonnd Marie already 
there. 'Well, my girl,' said Michel, as he pat- 
ted Marie's shoulder, and kissed her forehead, 
'you've been up getting a rare breakfast for 
these fellows, I see.' Marie smiled, and made 
some good-humoured reply. ~No one could have 
told by her face that there was anything amiss 
with her. ' It's the last favour of the kind he'll 
ever have at your hands,' continued Michel, 'and 
yet he doesn't seem to be half grateful.' George 
stood with his back to the kitchen fire, and did 
not say a word. It was impossible for him even 
to appear to be pleasant when such things were 
being said. Marie was a better hypocrite, and, 
though she said little, was able to look as though 
she could sympathise with her uncle's pleasant 
mirth. The two men had soon eaten their break- 



202 THE GOLDEN LION OP GEANPEEE. 

fast and were gone, and then Marie was left 
alone with her thoughts. "Would George say 
anything to his father of what had passed up- 
stairs on the previous evening ? 

The two men started, and when they were 
alone together, and as long as Michel abstained 
from talking about Marie and her prospects, 
George was able to converse freely with his 
father. When they left the house the morning 
was just dawning, and the air was fresh and 
sharp. l We shall soon have the frost here now,' 
said Michel, 'and then there will be no more 
grass for the cattle.' 

' I suppose they can have them out on the 
low lands till the end of November. They 
always used.' 

4 Yes ; they can have them out ; but having 
them out and having food for them are different 
things. The people here have so much stock 
now, that directly the growth is checked by the 
frost, the land becomes almost bare. They forget 
the old saying — "Half stocking, whole profits; 
whole stocking, half profits !" And then, too, I 
think the winters are earlier here than they used 
to be. They'll have to go back to the Swiss 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPEEE. 203 

plan, I fancy, and carry the food to the cattle in 
their houses. It may be old-fashioned, as they 
say ; but I doubt whether the fodder does not go 
farther so.' Then as they began to ascend the 
mountain, he got on to the subject of his own 
business and George's prospects. ' The dues to 
the Commune are so heavy,' he said, c that in 
fact there is little or nothing to be made out of 
the timber. It looks like a business, because 
many men are employed, and it's a kind of thing 
that spreads itself, and bears looking at. But it 
leaves nothing behind.' 

'It's not quite so bad as that, I hope,' said 
George. 

i Upon my word then it is not much better, 
my boy. "When you've charged yourself with 
interest on the money spent on the mills, there 
is not much to boast about. You're bound to 
replant every yard you strip, and yet the Com- 
mune expects as high a rent as when there was 
no planting to be done at all. They couldn't get 
it, only that men like myself have their money 
in the mills, and can't well get out of the trade.' 

' I don't think you'd like to give it up, father.' 

' Well, no. It gives me exercise and some- 



204 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

thing to clo. The women manage most of it 
clown at the honse ; bnt there must be a change 
■when Marie has gone. I have hardly looked it 
in the face yet, but I know there must be a 
change. She has grown up among it till she has 
it all at her fingers' ends. I tell you what, 
George, she is a girl in a hundred, — a girl in a 
hundred. She is going to marry a rich man, and 
so it don't much signify ; but if she married a 
poor man, she would be as good as a fortune to 
him. She'd make a fortune for any man. That's 
my belief. There is nothing she doesn't know, 
and nothing she doesn't understand.' 

Why did his father tell him all this ? George 
thought of the day on which his father had, as 
he was accustomed to say to himself, turned him 
out of the house because he wanted to marry 
this girl who was < as good as a fortune' to any 
man. Had he, then, been imprudent in allowing 
himself to love such a girl ? Could there be any 
good reason why his father should have wished 
that a l fortune,' in every way so desirable, should 
go out of the family ? ' She'll have nothing to 
do of that sort if she goes to Basle/ said George 
moodily. 



THE GOLDEN LION OE GRANPERE. 205 

'That is more than you can say, 5 replied his- 
father. i A -woman married to a man of business 
can always find her share in it if she pleases. 
And with such a one as Adrian Urmand her side 
of the house will not be the least considerable.' 

1 1 suppose he is little better than a fool,' said 
George. 

' A fool ! He is not a fool at all. If you were 
to see him buying, you would not call him a fooL 
He is very far from a fool.' 

( It may be so. I do not know much of him 
myself.' 

'You should not be so prone to think men 
fools till you find them so ; especially those who 
are to be so near to yourself. No ; — he's not a 
fool by any means. But he will know that he 
has got a clever wife, and he will not be ashamed 
to make use of her.' 

George was unwilling to contradict his father 
at the present moment, as he had all but made 
up his mind to tell the whole story about himself 
and Marie before he returned to the house. He 
had not the slightest idea that by doing so he 
would be able to soften his father's heart. He 
was sure, on the contrary, that were he to do so,. 



206 THE GOLDEN LION OF 01UNPERE. 

he and his father would go back to the hotel as 
enemies. But he was quite resolved that the 
story should be told sooner or later, — should be 
told before the day fixed for the wedding. If it 
was to be told by himself, what occasion could be 
so fitting as the present ? But, if it were to be 
clone on this morning, it would be unwise to 
harass his father by any small previous contra- 
dictions. 

They were now up among the scattered pro- 
strate logs, and had again taken up the question 
of the business of wood-cutting. l No, George ; 
it would never have done for you ; not as a main- 
stay. I thought of giving it up to you once, 
but I knew that it would make a poor man of 
you.' 

' I wish you had,' said George, who was un- 
able to repress the feeling of his heart. 

' "Why do you say that ? "What a fool you 
must be if you think it ! There is nothing you 
may not do where you are, and you have got it 
all into your own hands, with little or no outlay. 
The rent is nothing; and the business is there 
ready made for you. In your position, if you 
find the hotel is not enough, there is nothing 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 207 

you cannot take up. 5 They had now seated 
themselves on the trunk of a pine tree; and 
Michel Voss having drawn a pipe from his 
pocket and filled it, was lighting it as he sat 
upon the wood. 'No, my boy/ he continued, 
i you'll have a better life of it than your father, 
I don't doubt. After all, the towns are better 
than the country. There is more to be seen 
and more to be learned. I don't complain. The 
Lord has been very good to me. I've had enough 
of everything, and have been able to keep my 
head up. But I feel a little sad when I look 
forward. You and Marie will both be gone; 
and your stepmother's friend, M. le Cure Gon- 
din, does not make much society for me. I 
sometimes think, when I am smoking a pipe 
up here all alone, that this is the best of it 
all ; — it will be when Marie has gone.' If his 
father thus thought of it, why did he send Marie 
away? If he thus thought of it, why had he 
sent his son away? Had it not already been 
within his power to keep both of them there 
together under his roof-tree? He had insisted 
on dividing them, and dismissing them from 
Granpere, one in one direction, and the other 



208 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

in another; — and then he complained of being 
alone ! Surely his father was altogether un- 
reasonable. 'And now one can't even get to- 
bacco that is worth smoking,' continued Michel, 
in a melancholy tone. ' There used to be good 
tobacco, but I don't know where it has all 
gone.' 

c I can send you over a little prime tobacco 
from Colmar, father.' 

'I wish you would, George. This is foul 
stuff. But I sometimes think I'll give it up. 
What's the use of it ? A man sits and smokes 
and smokes, and nothing comes of it. It don't 
feed him, nor clothe him, and it leaves nothing 
behind, — except a stink.' 

6 You're a little down in the mouth, father, 
or you wouldn't talk of giving up smoking.' 

l I am down in the mouth, — terribly down 
in the mouth. Till it was all settled, I did not 
know how much I should feel Marie's going. Of 
course it had to be, but it makes an old man 
of me. There will be nothing left. Of course 
there's your stepmother, — as good a woman as 
ever lived, — and the children; but Marie was 
somehow the soul of us all. Give us another 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 209 

light, George. I'm blessed if I can keep the 
fire in the pipe at all.' 

1 And this/ thought George, 'is in truth the 
state of my father's mind ! There are three of 
us concerned who are all equally dear to each 
other, my father, myself, and Marie Bromar. 
There is not one of them who doesn't feel that 
the presence of the others is necessary to his 
happiness. Here is my father declaring that 
the world will no longer have any savour for 
him because I am away in one place, and Marie 
is to be away in another. There is not the 
slightest real reason on earth why we should 
have been separated. Yet he, — he alone has 
done it; and we, — we are to break our hearts 
over it ! Or rather he has not done it. He is 
about to do it. The sacrifice is not yet made, 
and yet it must be made, because my father is 
so unreasonable that no one will dare to point 
out to him where lies the way to his own happi- 
ness and to the happiness of those he loves !' It 
was thus that George Yoss thought of it as he 
listened to his father's wailings. 

But he himself, though he was hot in tem- 
per, was slow, or at least deliberate, in action. 

p 



210 THE GOLDEN LIOX OF GRAKPEEE. 

He did not even now speak out at once. "When 
his father's pipe was finished he suggested that 
they should go on to a certain run for the fir- 
logs, which he himself — George Voss — had made 
— a steep grooved inclined plane by which the 
timber when cut in these parts could be sent 
down with a rush to the close neighbourhood of 
the saw-mill below. They went and inspected 
the slide, and discussed the question of putting 
new wood into the groove. Michel, with the 
melancholy tone that had prevailed with him 
all the morning, spoke of matters as though 
any money spent in mending would be thrown 
away. There are moments in the lives of most 
of us in which it seems to us that there will 
never be more cakes and ale. George, how- 
ever, talked of the children, and reminded his 
father that in matters of business nothing is so 
ruinous as ruin. 'If you've got to get your 
money out of a thing, it should always be in 
working order,' he said. Michel acknowledged 
the truth of the rule, but again declared that 
there was no money to be got out of the thing. 
He yielded, however, and promised that the re- 
pairs should be made. Then they went down 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GBANPEBE. 211 

to the mill, which was going at that time. 
George, as he stood by and watched the man 
and boy adjusting the logs to the cradle, and 
listened to the apparently self-acting saw as it 
did its work, and observed the perfection of the 
simple machinery which he himself had adjusted, 
and smelt the sweet scent of the newly-made 
sawdust, and listened to the music of the little 
stream, when, between whiles, the rattle of the 
mill would cease for half a minute, — George as 
he stood in silence, looking at all this, listening 
to the sounds, smelling the perfume, thinking 
how much sweeter it all was than the little room 
in which Madame Paragon sat at Colmar, and 
in which it was, at any rate for the present, 
his duty to submit his accounts to her, from 
time to time, — resolved that he would at once 
make an effort. He knew his father's temper 
well. Might it not be that though there should 
be a quarrel for a time, everything would come 
right at last? As for Adrian Urmand, George 
did not believe, — or told himself that he did not 
believe, — that such a cur as he would suffer much 
because his hopes of a bride were not fulfilled. 
They stayed for an hour at the saw-mill, and 



212 THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPEEE. 

Michel, in spite of all that lie had said about 
tobacco, smoked another pipe. "While they were 
there, George, though his mind was full of other 
matter, continued to give his father practical 
advice about the business — how a new wheel 
should be supplied here, and a lately invented 
improvement introduced there. Each of them at 
the moment was care-laden with special thoughts 
of his own, but nevertheless, as men of busi- 
ness, they knew that the hour was precious and 
used it. To saunter into the woods and do no- 
thing was not at all in accordance with Michel's 
usual mode of life ; and though he hummed and 
hawed, and doubted and grumbled, he took a 
note of all his son said, and was quite of a mind 
to make use of his son's wit. 

c I shall be over at Epinal the day after to- 
morrow,' he said as they left the mill, ' and I'll 
see if I can get the new crank there.' 

c They'll be sure to have it at Heinman's,' 
said George, as they began to descend the hill. 
From the spot on which they had been standing 
the walk down to Granpere would take them 
more than an hour. It might well be that they 
might make it an affair of two or three hours, 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPEHE. 213 

if they went up to other timber-cuttings on their 
route; but George was sure that as soon as he 
began to tell his story his father would make 
his way straight for home. He would be too 
much moved to think of his timber, and too 
angry to desire to remain a minute longer than 
he could help in company with his son. Look- 
ing at all the circumstances as carefully as he 
could, George thought that he had better begin 
at once. 'As you feel Marie's going so much,' 
he said, ' I wonder that you are so anxious to 
send her away.' 

' That's a poor argument, George, and one 
that I should not have expected from you. Am 
I to keep her here all her life, doing no good 
for herself, simply because I like to have her 
here? It is in the course of things that she 
should be married, and it is my duty to see that 
she marries well.' 

' That is quite true, father.' 

c Then why do you talk to me about sending 
her away? I don't send her away. Urmand 
comes and takes her away. I did the same 
when I was young. Now I'm old, and I have 
to be left behind. It's the way of nature.' 



214 THE GOLDEN LION OF GBAOTEEE, 

' But she doesn't want to be taken away,' 
said George, rushing at once at his subject. 

' What do you mean by that ?' 

i Just what I say, father. She consents to 
be taken away, but she does not wish it.' 

' I don't know what you mean. Has she 
been talking to you? Has she been complain- 
ing?' 

1 1 have been talking to her. I came over 
from Colmar when I heard of this marriage on 
purpose that I might talk to her. I had at any 
rate a right to do that.' 

c Eight to do what ? I don't know that you 
have any right. If you have been trying to do 
mischief in my house, George, I will never for- 
give you — never.' 

1 1 will tell you the whole truth, father ; and 
then you shall say yourself whether I have been 
trying to do mischief, and shall say also whether 
you will forgive me. You will remember when 
you told me that I was not to think of Marie 
Bromar for myself.' 

i I do remember.' 

' Well ; I had thought of her. If you wanted 
to prevent that, you were too late.' 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPERE. 215 

1 You were boys and girls together ; that is 
all.' 

( Let me tell my story, father, and then you 
shall judge. Before you had spoken to me at 
all, 3Iarie had given me her troth.' 

c Xonsense !' 

1 Let me at least tell my story. She had 
done so, and I had given her mine; and when 
you told me to go, I went, not quite knowing 
then what it might be best that we should do, 
but feeling very sure that she would at least be 
true to me.' 

1 Truth to any such folly as that would be 
very wicked.' 

'At any rate, I did nothing. I remained 
there month after month ; meaning to do some- 
thing when this was settled, — meaning to do 
something when that was settled ; and then there 
came a sort of rumour to me that Marie was to 
be Urmand's wife. I did not believe it, but I 
thought that I would come and see.' 

1 It was true.' 

'Xo; — it was not true then. I came over, 
and was very angry because she was cold to 
me. She would not promise that there should 



216 THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPERE. 

be no such engagement; but there was none 
then. You see I will tell you everything as it 
occurred.' 

'She is at any rate engaged to Adrian Ur- 
mand now, and for all our sakes you are bound 
not to interfere.' 

' But yet I must tell my story. I went back 
to Colmar, and then, after a while, there came 
tidings, true tidings, that she was engaged to 
this man. I came over again yesterday, deter- 
mined, — you may blame me if you will, father, 
but listen to me, — determined to throw her false- 
hood in her teeth.' 

1 Then I will protect her from you,' said 
Michel Yoss, turning upon his son as though 
he meant to strike him with his staff. 

4 Ah, father,' said George, pausing and stand- 
ing opposite to the innkeeper, 'but who is to 
protect her from you ? If I had found that that 
which you are doing was making her happy, — 
I would have spoken my mind indeed ; I would 
have shown her once, and once only, what she 
had done to me; how she had destroyed me, — 
and then I would have gone, and troubled none 
of you any more.' 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEKE. 217 

'You had better go now, and bring ns no 
more trouble. You are all trouble.' 

' l But her worst trouble will still cling to 
her. I have found that it is so. She has taken 
this man not because she loves him, but because 
you have bidden her.' 

4 She has taken him, and she shall marry 
him.' 

' I cannot say that she has been right, father ; 
but she deserves no such punishment as that. 
Would you make her a wretched woman for 
ever, because she has done wrong in striving to 
obey you ?' 

'She has not done wrong in striving to 
obey me. She has done right. I ch/ not believe 
a word of this.' 

'You can ask her yourself.' 

' I will ask her nothing, — except that she 
shall not speak to you any farther about it. 
You have come here wilfully-minded to disturb 
us all.' 

1 Father, that is unjust.' 

'I say it is true. She was contented and 
happy before you came. She loves the man, 
and is ready to marry him on the day fixed* 



218 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

Of course she will many hini. You would not 
have us go back from our word now ?' 

f Certainly I would. If he be a man, and 
she tells him that she repents, — if she tells him 
all the truth, of course he will give her back 
her troth. I would do so to any woman that 
only hinted that she wished it.' 

'No such hint shall be given. I will hear 
nothing of it. I shall not speak to Marie on 
the subject, — except to desire her to have no 
farther converse with you. Nor will I speak 
of it again to yourself; unless you wish me to 
bid you go from me altogether, you will not 
mention the matter again.' So saying, Michel 
Yoss strode on, and would not even turn his 
eyes in the direction of his son. He strode 
on, making his way down the hill at the fast- 
est pace that he could achieve, every now and 
then raising his hat and wiping the perspi- 
ration from his brow. Though he had spoken 
of Marie's departure as a loss that would be 
very hard to bear, the very idea that anything 
should be allowed to interfere with the mar- 
riage which he had planned was unendurable. 
What ; — after all that had been said and done. 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 219 

consent that there should he no marriage be- 
tween his niece and the rich young merchant ! 
Never. He did not stop for a moment to think 
how much of truth there might be in his son's 
statement. He would not even allow himself to 
remember that he had forced Adrian Urmand 
as a suitor upon his niece. He had had his 
qualms of conscience upon that matter. — and it 
was possible that they might return to him. 
But he would not stop now to look at that side 
of the question. The young people were be- 
trothed. The marriage was a thing settled, and 
it should be celebrated. He had never broken 
his faith to any man, 'and he would not break 
it to Adrian Urmand. He strode on down the 
mountain, and there was not a word more said 
between him and his son till they reached the 
inn doors. 'You understand me,' he said then. 
'Not a word more to Marie.' After that he 
went up at once to his wife's chamber, and de- 
sired that Marie might be sent to him there. 
During his rapid walk home he had made up 
his mind as to what he would do. He would 
not be severe to his niece. He would simply 
ask her one question. 



220 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

'My dear/ he said, striving to be calm, but 
telling her by his countenance as plainly as 
words could have done all that had passed be- 
tween him and his son, — ' Marie, my dear, I 
take it for — granted — there is nothing to — to 
— to interrupt our plans.' 

'In what way, uncle?' she asked, merely 
wanting to gain a moment for thought. 

'In any way. In no way. Just say that 
there is nothing wrong, and that will be suf- 
ficient.' She stood silent, not having a word to 
say to him. 'You know what I mean, Marie. 
You intend to marry Adrian Urmand ?' 

' I suppose so, ? said Marie in a low whis- 
per. 

'Look here, Marie, — if there be any doubt 
about it, we will part, — and for ever. You 
shall never look upon my face again. My honour 
is pledged, — and yours.' Then he hurried out 
of the room, down into the kitchen, and with- 
out staying there a moment went out into the 
yard, and walked through to the stables. His 
passion had been so strong and uncontrollable, 
that he had been unable to remain with his 
niece and exact a promise from her. 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 221 

George, when lie saw his father go through 
to the stables, entered the house. He had al- 
ready made tip his mind that he would return 
at once to Colmar, without waiting to have 
more angry words. Such words would serve 
him not at all. But he must if possible see 
Marie, and he must also tell his stepmother 
that he was about to depart. He found them 
both together, and at once, very abruptly, de- 
clared that he was to start immediately. 

' You have quarrelled with your father, 
George,' said Madame Yoss. 

' I hope not. I hope that he has not quar- 
relled with me. But it is better that I should 
go. 5 

'What is it, George? I hope it is nothing 
serious.' Madame Yoss as she said this looked 
at Marie, but Marie had turned her face away. 
George also looked at her, but could not see 
her countenance. He did not dare to ask her 
to give him an interview alone; nor had he 
quite determined what he would say to her if 
they were together. 'Marie,' said Madame Voss, 
'do you know what this is about?' 

'I wish I had died,' said Marie, 'before I 



222 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

had come into this house. I have made hatred 
and bitterness between those who should love 
each other better than all the world !' Then 
Madame Yoss was able to guess what had been 
the cause of the quarrel. 

1 Marie,' said George very slowly, ' if you 
will only ask your own heart what you ought 
to do, and be true to what it tells you, there is 
no reason even yet that you should be sorry that 
you came to Granpere. But if you marry a 
man whom you do not love, you will sin against 
him, and against me, and against yourself, and 
against God!' Then he took up his hat and 
went out. 

In the courtyard he met his father. 

c Where are you going now, George?' said 
his father. 

' To Colmar. It is better that I should go 
at once. Good-bye, father ;' and he offered his 
hand to his parent. 

' Have you spoken to Marie ?' 

' My mother will tell you what I have said. 
I have spoken nothing in private.' 

< Have you said anything about her mar- 
riage ?' 



THE GOLDEN LIOX OF GRANPERE. 22 



o 



4 Yes. I have told her that she could not 
honestly marry the man she did not love.' 

'What right have yon, sir,' said Michel, 
nearly choked with wrath, 'to interfere in the 
affairs of my household? You had better go, 
and go at once. If you return again before they 
are married, I will tell the servants to put you 
off the place !' George Yoss made no answer, 
but having found his horse and his gig, drove 
himself off to Colmar. 



CHAPTEE XIY. 

Geokge Voss, as he drove back to Colmar and 
thought of what had been done during the last 
twenty-four hours, did not find that he had much 
occasion for triumph. He had, indeed, the con- 
solation of knowing that the girl loved him, and 
in that there was a certain amount of comfort. 
As he had ever been thinking about her since 
he had left Granpere, so also had she been think- 
ing of him. His father had told him that they 
had been no more than children when they 
parted, and had ridiculed the idea that any affec- 
tion formed so long back and at so early an age 
should have lasted. But it had lasted ; and was 
now as strong in Marie's breast as it was in his 
own. He had learned this at any rate by his 
journey to Granpere, and there was something 
of consolation in the knowledge. But, never- 
theless, he did not find that he could triumph. 



THE GOLDEX LION OF GRANPERE. 225 

Marie had been weak enough to yield to his 
father once, and would yield to him, he thought. 
yet again. Women in this respect — as he told 
himself — were different from men. They were 
taught by the whole tenor of their lives to sub- 
mit, — unless they could conquer by underhand 
unseen means, by little arts, by coaxing, and by 
tears. Marie, he did not doubt, had tried all 
these, and had failed. His father's purpose had 
been too strong for her, and she had yielded. 
Having submitted once, of course she would 
submit again. There was about his father a 
spirit of masterfulness, which he was sure Marie 
would not be able to withstand. And then there 
would be — strong against his interests, George 
thought — that feeling so natural to a woman, 
that as all the world had been told of her coming 
marriage, she would be bound to go through 
with it. The idea of it had become familiar to 
her. She had conquered the repugnance which 
she must at first have felt, and had made herself 
accustomed to regard this man as her future hus- 
band. And then there would be Madame Yoss 
against him, and M. le Cure, — both of whom 
would think it infinitely better for Marie's future 

Q 



226 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

welfare, that she should marry a Eoman Catholic, 
as was Urmand, than a Protestant such as was 
he, George Voss. And then the money ! Even 
if he could bring himself to believe that the 
money was nothing to Marie, it would be so 
much to all those by whom Marie would be sur- 
rounded, that it would be impossible that she 
should be preserved from its influence. 

It is not often that young people really know 
each other ; but George certainly did not know 
Marie Bromar. In the first place, though he 
had learned from her the secret of her heart, he 
had not taught himself to understand how his 
own sullen silence had acted upon her. He 
knew now that she had continued to love him ; 
but he did not know how natural it had been 
that she should have believed that he had for- 
gotten her. He could not, therefore, understand 
how different must now be her feelings in refer- 
ence to this marriage with Adrian, from what 
they had been when she had believed herself to 
be utterly deserted. And then he did not com- 
prehend how thoroughly unselfish she had been ; 
— how she had struggled to do her duty to 
others, let the cost be what it might to herself. 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GKANPEEE. 227 

She had plighted herself to Adrian Urmand, not 
because there had seemed to her to be any bright- 
ness in the prospect which such a future pro- 
mised to her, but because she did verily believe 
that, circumstanced as she was, it would be bet- 
ter that she should submit herself to her friends. 
All this George Yoss did not understand. He 
had thrown his thunderbolt, and had seen that 
it had been efficacious. Its efficacy had been 
such that his wrath had been turned into tender- 
ness. He had been so changed in his purpose, 
that he had been induced to make an appeal to 
his father at the cost of his father's enmity. But 
that appeal had been in vain, and, as he thought 
of it all, he told himself that on the appointed 
day Marie Bromar would become the wife of 
Adrian Urmand. He knew well enough that a 
girl betrothed is a girl already half married. 

He was very wretched as he drove his 
horse along. Though there was a solace in 
the thought that the memory of him had still 
remained in Marie's heart, there was a feeling 
akin to despair in this also. His very tender- 
ness towards her was more unendurable than 
would have been his wrath. The' pity of it ! 



228 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

The pity of it ! It was that which made him 
sore of heart and faint of spirit. If he conld 
have reproached her as cold, mercenary, un- 
worthy, heartless, even thongh he had still 
loved her, he conld have supported himself by 
his anger against her unworthiness. But as 
it was there was no such support for him. 
Though she had been in fault, her virtue to- 
wards him was greater than her fault. She 
still loved him. She still loved him, — though 
she could not be his wife. 

Then he thought of Adrian Urmand and of 
the man's success and wealth, and general pro- 
sperity in the world. What if he should go 
over to Basle and take Adrian Urmand by the 
throat and choke him? "What if he should at 
least half choke the successful man, and make 
it well understood that the other half would 
come unless the successful man would consent 
to relinquish his bride? George, though he 
did not expect success for himself, was fully 
purposed that Urmand should not succeed with- 
out some interference from him, — by means of 
choking or otherwise. He would find some 
way of making himself disagreeable. If it 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 229 

were only by speaking his mind, he thonght 
that he could speak it in such a way that the 
Basle merchant would not like it. He would 
tell Urmand in the first place that Marie was 
won not at all by affection, not in the least by 
any personal regard for her suitor, but alto- 
gether by a feeling of duty towards her uncle. 
And he would point out to this suitor how 
dastardly a thing it would be to take advan- 
tage of a girl so placed. He planned a speech 
or two as he drove along which he thought 
that even Urmand, thick-skinned as he believed 
him to be, would dislike to hear. 'You may 
have her, perhaps,' he would say to him, 'as 
so much goods that you would buy, because 
she is, as a thing in her uncle's hands, to be 
bought. She believes it to be her duty, as 
being altogether dependent, to be disposed of 
as her uncle may choose. And she will go to 
you, as she would to any other man who might 
make the purchase. But as for loving you, — 
you don't even believe that she loves you. She 
will keep your house for you; but she will 
never love you. She will keep your house for 
you,— unless, indeed, she should find you to be 



230 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

so intolerable to her, that she should be forced 
to leave you. It is in that way that you will 
have her, — if you are so low a thing as to be 
willing to take her so.' He planned various 
speeches of such a nature — not intending to 
trust entirely to speeches, but to proceed to 
some attempt at choking afterwards if it should 
be necessary. Marie Bromar should not be- 
come Adrian Urmand's wife without some effort 
on his part. So resolving, he drove into the 
yard of the hotel at Colmar. 

As soon as he entered the house Madame 
Faragon began to ask him questions about the 
wedding. When was it to be ? George thought 
for a moment, and then remembered that he had 
not even heard the day named. 

' Why don't you answer me, George ?' said 
the old woman angrily. i You must know when 
it's going to be.' 

' I don't know that it's going to be at all,' 
said George. 

' Not going to be at all ! Why not ? There 
is not anything wrong, is there ? Were they not 
betrothed? Why don't you tell me, George?' 

1 Yes ; they were betrothed.' 



THE GOLDEN LION OE GBANPEKE. 231 

c And is he crying off ? I should have 
thought Michel Voss was the man to strangle 
him if he did that.' 

c And I am the man to strangle him if he 
don't,' said George, walking out of the room. 

He knew that he had been silly and absurd, 
but he knew also that he was so moved as to 
have hardly any control over himself. In the 
few words that he had now said to Madame 
Faragon he had, as he felt, told the story of 
his own disappointment ; and yet he had not 
in the least intended to take the old woman 
into his confidence. He had not meant to have 
said a word about the quarrel between himself 
and his father, and now he had told every- 
thing. 

When she saw him again in the evening, of 
course she asked him some farther questions. 

' George,' she said, 1 1 am afraid things are 
not going pleasantly at Granpere.' 

' Not altogether,' he answered. 

1 But I suppose the marriage will go on ?' 
To this he made no answer, but shook his 
head, showing how impatient he was at being 
thus questioned. ' You ought to tell me,' said 



232 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

Madame Faragon plaintively, ' considering how 
interested I must be in all that concerns you.' 

' 1 have nothing to tell.' 

'But is the marriage to be put off?' again 
demanded Madame Faragon, with extreme anx- 
iety. 

'Not that I know of, Madame Faragon: 
they will not ask me whether it is to be put 
off or not.' 

'But have they quarrelled with M. Urmand ?' 

'No; nobody has quarrelled with M. Urmand.' 

' Was he there, George ?' 

' What, with me ! No ; he was not there 
with me. I have never seen the man since I 
first left Granpere to come here.' And then 
George Yoss began to think what might have 
happened had Adrian Urmand been at the hotel 
while he was there himself. After all, what 
could he have said to Adrian Urmand ? or what 
could he have done to him ? 

'He hasn't written, has he, to say that he 
is off his bargain ?' Poor Madame Faragon was 
almost pathetic in her anxiety to learn what 
had really occurred at the Lion d'Or.' 

'Certainly not. He has not written at all' 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 233 

1 Then what is it, George V 

' I suppose it is this, — that Marie Eromar 
cares nothing for him.' 

i But so rich as he is ! And they say, too, 
such a good-looking young man.' 

'It is wonderful, is it not? It is next to 
a miracle that there should be a girl deaf and 
blind to such charms. But, nevertheless, I be- 
lieve it is so. They will probably make her 
marry him, whether she likes it or not.' 

'But she is betrothed to him. Of course 
she will marry him.' 

'Then there will be an end of it,' said 
George. 

There was one other question which Ma- 
dame Faragon longed to ask ; but she was 
almost too much afraid of her young friend to 
put it into words. At last she plucked up 
courage, and did ask her question after an am- 
biguous way. 

' But I suppose it is nothing to you, George ?' 

' Nothing at all. Nothing on earth,' said he. 
' How should it be anything to me ?' Then he 
hesitated for a while, pausing to think whether or 
not he would tell the truth to Madame Faragon. 



234 THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPERE. 

He knew that there was no one on earth, setting 
aside his father and Marie Bromar, to whom he 
was really so dear as he was to this old woman. 
She would probably do more for him, if it might 
possibly be in her power to do anything, than 
any other of his friends. And, moreover, he did 
not like the idea of being false to her, even on 
snch a subject as this. ' It is only this to me,' 
he said, ' that she had promised to be my wife, 
before they had ever mentioned Urmand's name 
to her.' 

< 0, George !' 

' And why should she not have promised ?' 

' But, George ; — during all this time you 
have never mentioned it.' 

6 There are some things, Madame Faragon, 
which one doesn't mention. And I do not know 
why I should have mentioned it at all. But you 
understand all about it now. Of course she will 
marry the man. It is not likely that my father 
should fail to have his own way with a girl who 
is dependent on him.' 

'But he — M. Urmand; he would give her 
up if he knew it all, would he not ?' 

To this George made no instant answer ; but 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 235 

the idea was there, in his mind — that the linen 
merchant might perhaps be induced to abandon 
his purpose, if he could be made to understand 
that Marie wished it. ' If he have any touch of 
manhood about him he would do so,' said he. 
' And what will you do, George ?' 
1 Do ! I shall do nothing. What should I 
do ? My father has turned me out of the house. 
That is the whole of it. I do not know that there 
is anything to be done.' Then he went out, and 
there was nothing more said upon the question. 
For the next three or four days there was nothing 
said. As he went in and out Madame Faragon 
would look at him with anxious eyes, question- 
ing herself how far such a feeling of love might 
in truth make this young man forlorn and 
wretched. As far as she could judge by his 
manner he was very forlorn and very wretched. 
He did his work indeed, and was busy about the 
place, as was his wont. But there was a look 
of pain in his face, which made her old heart 
grieve, and by degrees her good wishes for the 
object, which seemed to be so much to him, be- 
came eager and hot, 

' Is there nothing to be done ?' she asked at 



236 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

last, putting out her fat hand to take hold of his 
in sympathy. 

' There is nothing to be done,' said George, 
who, however, hated himself because he was 
doing nothing, and still thought occasionally of 
that plan of choking his rival. 

' If you were to go to Basle and see the man ?' 

1 What could I say to him, if I did see him ? 
After all, it is not him that I can blame. I have 
no just ground of quarrel with him. He has 
done nothing that is not fair. Why should he 
not love her if it suits him ? Unless he were to 
fight me, indeed — ' 

' 0, George ! let there be no fighting.' 

' It would do no good, I fear.' 

' None, none, none,' said she. 

' If I were to kill him, she could not be my 
wife then.' 

' No, no ; certainly not.' 

' And if I wounded him, it would make her 
like him perhaps. If he were to kill me, indeed, 
there might be some comfort in that.' 

After this Madame Faragon made no farther 
suggestions that her young friend should go to 
Basle. 



CHAPTEE XY. 

During the remainder of the day on which 
George had left Granpere, the hours did not fly 
very pleasantly at the Lion d'Or. Michel Yoss 
had gone to his niece immediately npon his re- 
turn from his walk, intending to obtain a re- 
newed pledge from her that she would be true to 
her engagement. But he had been so full of pas- 
sion, so beside himself with excitement, so dis- 
turbed by all that he had heard, that he had 
hardly waited with Marie long enough to obtain 
such pledge, or to learn from her that she refused 
to give it. He had only been able to tell her 
that if she hesitated about marrying Adrian she 
should never look upon his face again ; and then 
without staying for a reply he had left her. He 
had been in such a tremor of passion that he 
had been unable to demand an answer. After 
that, when George was gone, he kept away from 



238 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

her during the remainder of the morning. Once 
or twice he said a few words to his wife, and she 
counselled him to take no farther outward notice 
of anything that George had said to him. ' It 
will all come right if you will only be a little 
calm with her/ Madame Yoss had said. He had 
tossed his head and declared that he was calm ;— 
the calmest man in all Lorraine. Then he had 
come to his wife again, and she had again given 
him some good practical advice. ' Don't put it 
into her head that there is to be a doubt/ said 
Madame Yoss. 

< I haven't put it into her head/ he answered 
angrily. 

1 No, my dear, no ; but do not allow her to 
suppose that anybody else can put it there either. 
Let the matter go on. She will see the things 
bought for her wedding, and when she remem- 
bers that she has allowed them to come into the 
house without remonstrating, she will be quite 
unable to object. Don't give her an opportunity 
of objecting.' Michel Yoss again shook his head, 
as though his wife were an unreasonable woman, 
and swore that it was not he who had given 
Marie such opportunity. But he made up his 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 239 

mind to do as his wife recommended. •' Speak 
softly to her, my dear/ said Madame Yoss. 

' Don't I always speak softly ?' said he, turn- 
ing sharply round upon his spouse. 

He made his attempt to speak softly when he 
met Marie about the house just before supper. 
He put his hand upon her shoulder, and smiled, 
and murmured some word of love. He was by 
no means crafty in what he did. Craft indeed 
was not the strong point of his character. She 
took his rough hand and kissed it, and looked up 
lovingly, beseechingly into his face. She knew 
that he was asking her to consent to the sacrifice, 
and he knew that she was imploring him to 
spare her. This was not what Madame Yoss had 
meant by speaking softly. Could she have been 
allowed to dilate upon her own convictions, or 
had she been able adequately to express her own 
ideas, she would have begged that there might 
be no sentiment, no romance, no kissing of hands, 
no looking into each other's faces, — no half- mur- 
mured tones of love. Madame Yoss believed 
strongly that the every-day work of the world 
was done better without any of these glancings 
and glimmerings of moonshine. But then her 



240 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

husband was, by nature, of a fervid temperament, 
given to the influence of unexpressed poetic emo- 
tions ; — and thus subject, in spite of the strength 
of his will, to much weakness of purpose. Ma- 
dame Voss perhaps condemned her husband in 
this matter the more because his romantic dispo- 
sition never showed itself in his intercourse with 
her. He would kiss Marie's hand, and press 
Marie's wrist, and hold dialogues by the eye with 
Marie. But with his wife his speech was, — not 
exactly yea, yea, and nay, nay, — but yes, yes, 
and no, no. It was not unnatural therefore that 
she should specially dislike this weakness of his 
which came from his emotional temperament. 
1 1 would just let things go, as though there were 
nothing special at all,' she said again to him, be- 
fore supper, in a whisper. 

'And so I do. "What would you have me 
say ?' 

' Don't mind petting her, but just be as you 
would be any other day.' 

4 1 am as I would be any other day,' he re- 
plied. However, he knew that his wife was 
right, and was in a certain way aware that if he 
could only change himself and be another sort of 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 241 

man, lie might manage the matter better. He 
could be fiercely angry, or caressingly affection- 
ate. But he was unable to adopt that safe and 
golden mean, which his wife recommended. He 
could not keep himself from interchanging a 
piteous glance or two with Marie at supper, and 
put a great deal too much unction into his caress 
to please Madame Voss, when Marie came to 
kiss him before she went to bed. 

In the mean time Marie was quite aware that 
it was incumbent on her to determine what she 
would do. It may be as well to declare at once 
that she had determined — had determined fully, 
before her uncle and George had started for their 
walk up to the wood-cutting. When she was 
giving them their breakfast that morning her 
mind was fully made up. She had had the night 
to lie awake upon it, to think it over, and to 
realise all that George had told her. It had come 
to her as quite a new thing that the man whom 
she worshipped, worshipped her too. While she 
believed that nobody else loved her ; — when she 
could tell herself that her fate was nothing to 
anybody ; — as long as it had seemed to her that 
the world for her must be cold, and hard, and 

R 



242 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

material ; — so long could she reconcile to herself, 
after some painful, dubious fashion, the idea of 
being the wife either of Adrian Urmand, or of 
any other man. Some kind of servitude was need- 
ful, and if her uncle was decided that she must 
be banished from his house, the kind of servitude 
which was proposed to her at Basle would do as 
well as another. But when she had learned the 
truth, — a truth so unexpected, — then such servi- 
tude became impossible to her. On that morning, 
when she came down to give the men their break- 
fast, she had quite determined that let the con- 
sequences be what they might she would never 
become the wife of Adrian Urmand. Madame 
Yoss had told her husband that when Marie saw 
the things purchased for her wedding coming into 
the house, the very feeling that the goods had 
been bought would bind her to her engagement. 
Marie had thought of that also, and was aware 
that she must lose no time in making her purpose 
known, so that articles which would be unneces- 
sary might not be purchased. On that very morn- 
ing, while the men had been up in the mountain, 
she had sat with her aunt hemming sheets ; — in- 
tended as an addition to the already overflowing 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GKANPEKE, 243 

stock possessed by M. Urmand. It was with 
difficulty that she had brought herself to do that, 
— telling herself, however, that as the linen was 
there, it must be hemmed ; when there had come 
a question of marking the sheets, she had evaded 
the task,- — not without raising suspicion in the 
bosom of Madame Voss. 

But it was, as she knew, absolutely necessary 
that her uncle should be informed of her purpose. 
When he had come to her after the walk, and 
demanded of her whether she still intended to 
marry Adrian Urmand, she had answered him 
falsely. C I suppose so,' she had said. The ques- 
tion — such a question as it was — had been put to 
her too abruptly to admit of a true answer on the 
spur of the moment. But the falsehood almost 
stuck in her throat and was a misery to her till 
she could set it right by a clear declaration of the 
truth. She had yet to determine what she would 
do ; — how she would tell this truth ; in what way 
she would insure to herself the power of carrying 
out her purpose. Her mind, the reader must re- 
member, was somewhat dark in the matter. She 
was betrothed to the man, and she had always 
heard that a betrothal was half a marriage. And 



244 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

yet she knew of instances in which marriages 
had been broken off after betrothal quite as cere- 
monious as her own — had been broken off with- 
out scandal or special censure from the Church. 
Her aunt, indeed, and M. le Cure had, ever since 
the plighting of her troth to M. Urmand, spoken 
of the matter in her presence, as though the wed- 
ding were a thing already nearly done; — not 
suggesting by the tenor of their speech that any 
one could wish in any case to make a change, but 
pointing out incidentally that any change was 
now out of the question. But Marie had been 
sharp enough to understand perfectly the gist of 
her aunt's manoeuvres and of the priest's inci- 
dental information. The thing could be done, 
she knew; and she feared no one in the doing 
of it, — except her uncle. But she did fear that 
if she simply told him that it must be done, he 
would have such a power over her that she would 
not succeed. In what way could she do it first, 
and then tell him afterwards ? 

At last she determined that she would write 
a letter to M. Urmand, and show a copy of the 
letter to her uncle when the post should have 
taken it so far out of Granpere on its way to 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GKANPERE. 245 

Basle, as to make it impossible that her uncle 
should recall it. Much of the day after Georges 
departure, and much of the night, was spent in 
the preparation of this letter. Marie Bromar was 
not so well practised in the writing of letters as 
will be the majority of the young ladies who may, 
perhaps, read her history. It was a difficult thing 
for her to begin the letter, and a difficult thing 
for her to bring it to its end. But the letter was 
written and sent. The post left Granpere at about 
eight in the morning, taking all letters by way 
of Eemiremont; and on the day following George's 
departure, the post took Marie Bromar' s letter to 
M. Urmand. 

When it was gone, her state of mind was very 
painful. Then it was necessary that she should 
show the copy to her uncle. She had posted the 
letter between six and seven with her own hands, 
and had then come trembling back to the inn, 
fearful that her uncle should discover what she 
had done before her letter should be beyond his 
reach. "When she saw the mail conveyance go 
by on its route to Eemiremont, then she knew 
that she must begin to prepare for her uncle's 
wrath. She thought that she had heard that the 



246 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

letters were detained some time at Bemiremont 
before they went on to Epinal in one direction, 
and to Mulhouse in the other. She looked at the 
railway time-table which was hung up in one of 
the passages of the inn, and saw the hour of the 
departure of the diligence from Bemiremont to 
catch the train at Mulhouse for Basle. When 
that hour was passed, the conveyance of her letter 
was insured, and then she must show the copy 
to her uncle. He came into the house about 
twelve, and eat his dinner with his wife in the 
little chamber. Marie, who was in and out of the 
room during the time, would not sit down with 
them. When pressed to do so by her uncle, she 
declared that she had eaten lately and was not 
hungry. It was seldom that she would sit down 
to dinner, and this therefore gave rise to no 
special remark. As soon as his meal was over, 
Michel Yoss got up to go out about his business, 
as was usual with him. Then Marie followed 
him into the passage. ' Uncle Michel,' she said, 
1 1 want to speak to you for a moment ; will you 
come with me ?' 

'What is it about, Marie?' 

' If you will come, I will show you.' 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 247 

' Show me ! What will you show me ?' 

i It's a letter, Uncle Michel. Come up-stairs 
and you shall see it.' Then he followed her up- 
stairs, and in the long public room, which was at 
that hour deserted, she took out of her pocket 
the copy of her letter to Adrian Urmand, and put 
it into her uncle's hands. c It is a letter, Uncle 
Michel, which I have written to M. Urmand, It 
went this morning, and you must see it.' 

'A letter to Urmand/ he said, as he took the 
paper suspiciously into his hands. 

' Yes, Uncle Michel. I was obliged to write 
it. It is the truth, and I was obliged to let him 
know it. I am afraid you will be angry with me, 
and — turn me away ; but I cannot help it.' 

The letter was as follows : 

c The Hotel Lion oV Or, Granpere, 

< October 1, 186—. 
1 M. Urmand, 

c I take up my pen in great sorrow and 

remorse to write you a letter, and to prevent you 

from coming over here for me, as you intended, 

on this day fortnight. I have promised to be 

your wife, but it cannot be. I know that I have 

behaved very badly, but it would be worse if I 



248 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

were to go on and deceive yon. Before I knew 
yon I had come to be fond of another man ; and 
I find now, though I have struggled hard to do 
what my uncle wishes, that I could not promise 
to love you and be your wife. I have not told 
Uncle Michel yet, but I shall as soon as this letter 
is gone. 

' I am very, very sorry for the trouble I have 
given you. I did not mean to be bad. I hope 
that you will forget me, and try to forgive me. 
!$o one knows better than I do how bad I have 
been. 

' Your most humble servant, 

' With the greatest respect, 

1 Marie Bromar.' 

The letter had taken her long to write, and 
it took her uncle long to read, before he came to 
the end of it. He did not get through a line 
without sundry interruptions, which all arose 
from his determination to contradict at once every 
assertion which she made. ' You cannot prevent 
his coming,' he said, ' and it shall not be pre- 
vented.' ' Of course, you have promised to be 
his wife, and it must be.' ' Nonsense about dc- 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 249 

ceiving him. He is not deceived at all.' ' Trash 
— you are not fond of another man. It is all non- 
sense.' l You must do what your uncle wishes. 
You must, now ! you must ! Of course, you will 
love him. Why can't you let all that come as it 
does with others ?' ' Letter gone ; — yes indeed, 
and now I must go after it.' c Trouble ! — yes ! 
Why could you not tell me before you sent it ? 
Have I not always been good to you?' 'You 
have not been bad ; not before. You have been 
very good. It is this that is bad.' ' Forget you 
indeed. Of course he won't. How should he? 
Are you not betrothed to him ? He'll forgive 
you fast enough, when you just say that you did 
not know what you were about when you were 
writing it.' Thus her uncle went on; and as the 
outburst of his wrath was, as it were, chopped 
into little bits by his having to continue the read- 
ing of the letter, the storm did not fall upon 
Marie's head so violently as she had expected. 
' There's a pretty kettle of fish you've made !' said 
he as soon as he had finished reading the letter. 
' Of course, it means nothing.' 

6 But it must mean something, Uncle Michel.' 
1 1 say it means nothing. Now I'll tell you 



250 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

what I shall do 5 Marie. I shall start for Basle 
directly. I shall get there by twelve o'clock to- 
night by going through Colmar, and I shall en- 
deavour to intercept the letter before Urmand 
would receive it to-morrow.' This was a cruel 
blow to Marie after all her precautions. i If I 
cannot do that, I shall at any rate see him before 
he gets it. That is what I shall do; and you 
must let me tell him, Marie, that you repent hav- 
ing written the letter.' 

' But I don't repent it, Uncle Michel ; I don't, 
indeed. I can't repent it. How can I repent it 
when I really mean it ? I shall never become his 
wife; — indeed I shall not. 0, Uncle Michel, 
pray, pray, pray do not go to Basle !' 

But Michel Voss resolved that he would go 
to Basle, and to Basle he went. The immediate 
weight, too, of Marie's misery was aggravated by 
the fact that in order to catch the train for Basle 
at Colmar, her uncle need not start quite imme- 
diately. There was an hour during which he 
could continue to exercise his eloquence upon his 
niece, and endeavour to induce her to authorise 
him to contradict her own letter. He appealed 
first to her affection, and then to her duty ; and 



THE GOLDEN LION 0*F GRANPERE. 251 

after that, having failed in these appeals, he poured 
forth the full vials of his wrath upon her head. 
She was ungrateful, obstinate, false, unwomanly, 
disobedient, irreligious, sacrilegious, and an idiot. 
In the fury of his anger, there was hardly any 
epithet of severe rebuke which he spared, and yet, 
as every cruel word left his mouth, he assured 
her that it should all be taken to mean nothing, 
if she would only now tell him that he might 
nullify the letter. Though she had deserved all 
these bad things which he had spoken of her, yet 
she should be regarded as having deserved none 
of them, should again be accepted as having in 
all points done her duty, if she would only, even 
now, be obedient. But she was not to be shaken. 
She had at last formed a resolution, and her 
uncle's words had no effect towards turning her 
from it. ' Uncle Michel,' she said at last, speak- 
ing with much seriousness of purpose, and a dig- 
nity of person that was by no means thrown 
away upon him, l if I am what you say, I had 
better go away from your house. I know I have 
been bad. I was bad to say that I would marry M. 
Urmand. I will not defend myself. But nothing 
on earth shall make me marry him. You had 



252 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRAXPERE. 

better let me go away, and get a place as a ser- 
vant among our friends at Epinal.' But Michel 
Voss, though he was heaping abuse upon her with 
the hope that he might thus achieve his purpose, 
had not the remotest idea of severing the connec- 
tion which bound him and her together. He 
wanted to do her good, not evil. She was ex- 
quisitely dear to him. If she would only let him 
have his way and provide for her welfare as he 
saw, in his wisdom, would be best, he would at 
once take her in his arms again and tell her that 
she was the apple of his eye. But she would not ; 
and he went at last off on his road to Colmar and 
Basle, gnashing his teeth in anger. 



CHAPTEE XVI. 

Nothing was said to Marie about her sins on that 
afternoon after her uncle had started on his jour- 
ney. Everything in the hotel was blank, and 
sad, and gloomy ; but there was, at any rate, the 
negative comfort of silence, and Marie was allowed 
to go about the house and do her work without 
rebuke. But she observed that the Cure — M. 
le Cure Gondin — sat much with her aunt during 
the evening, and she did not doubt but that she 
herself and her iniquities made the subject of 
their discourse. 

M. le Cure Gondin, as he was generally called 
at Granpere, — being always so spoken of, with 
his full name and title, by the large Protestant 
portion of the community, — was a man very much 
respected by all the neighbourhood. He was re- 
spected by the Protestants because he never in- 
terfered with them, never told them, either behind 



254 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

their backs or before their faces, that they would 
be damned as heretics, and never tried the hope- 
less task of converting them. In his intercourse 
with them he dropped the subject of religion al- 
together, — as a philologist or an entomologist will 
drop his grammar or his insects in his intercourse 
with those to whom grammar and insects are 
matters of indifference. And he was respected 
by the Catholics of both sorts, — by those who did 
not and by those who did adhere with strictness 
to the letter of their laws of religion. "With the 
former he did his duty, perhaps without much 
enthusiasm. He preached to them, if they would 
come and listen to him. He christened them, 
confessed them, and absolved them from their 
sins, — of course, after due penitence. But he 
lived with them, too, in a friendly way, pronounc- 
ing no anathemas against them, because they 
were not as attentive to their religious exercises 
as they might have been. But with those who 
took a comfort in sacred things, who liked to go 
to early masses in cold weather, to be punctual 
at ceremonies, to say the rosary as surely as the 
evening came, who knew and performed all the 
intricacies of fasting as ordered by the bishop, 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 255 

down to the refinement of an egg more or less, 
in the whole Lent, or the absence of butter from 
the day's cookery, — with these he had all that 
enthusiasm which such people like to encounter 
in their priest. We may say, therefore, that he 
was a wise man, — and probably, on the whole, a 
good man ; that he did good service in his parish, 
and helped his people along in their lives not in- 
efficiently. He was a small man, with dark hair 
very closely cut, with a tonsure that was visible 
but not more than visible ; with a black beard 
that was shaved every Tuesday, Friday, and 
Saturday evenings, but which was very black 
indeed on the Tuesday and Friday mornings. He 
always wore the black gown of his office, but 
would go about his parish with an ordinary soft 
slouch hat, — thus subjecting his appearance to an 
absence of ecclesiastical trimness which, perhaps, 
the most enthusiastic of his friends regretted. 
Madame Yoss certainly would have wished that 
he would have had himself shaved at any rate 
every other day, and that he would have ab- 
stained from showing himself in the streets of 
Granpere without his clerical hat. But, though 
she was very intimate with her Cure, and had 



256 THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPERE. 

conferred upon him much material kindness, she 
had never dared to express her opinion to him 
upon these matters. 

During much of that afternoon M. le Cure sat 
with Madame Yoss, but not a word was said to 
Marie about her disobedience either by him or 
by her. Nevertheless, Marie felt that her sins 
were being discussed, and that the lecture was 
coming. She herself had never quite liked M. 
le Cure — not having any special reason for dis- 
liking him, but regarding him as a man who 
was perhaps a little deficient in spirit, and per- 
haps a trifle too mindful of his creature com- 
forts. M. le Cure took a great deal of snuff, and 
Marie did not like snuff- taking. Her uncle 
smoked a great deal of tobacco, and that she 
thought very nice and proper in a man. Had her 
uncle taken the snuff and the priest smoked the 
tobacco, she would probably have equally ap- 
proved of her uncle's practice and disapproved 
that of the priest ; — because she loved the one and 
did not love the other. She had thought it pro- 
bable that she might be sent for during the even- 
ing, and had, therefore, made for herself an im- 
mensity of household work, the performance of 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GBANPERE. 257 

all which on that very evening the interests of 
the Lion d'Or would imperatively demand. The 
work was all done, but no message from Aunt 
Josey summoned Marie into the little parlour. 

Nevertheless Marie had been quite right in 
her judgment. On the following morning, be- 
tween eight and nine, M. le Cure was again in 
the house, and had a cup of coffee taken to him 
in the little parlour. Marie, who felt angry at 
his return, would not take it herself, but sent it 
in by the hands of Peter Veque. Peter Yeque 
returned in a few minutes with a message to 
Marie, saying that M. le Cure wished to see her. 

'Tell him that I am very busy,' said Marie. 
' Say that uncle is away, and that there is a deal 
to do. Ask him if another day won't suit as well.' 

She knew when she sent this message that 
another day would not suit as well. And she 
must have known also that her uncle's absence 
made no difference in her work. Peter came 
back with a request from Madame Voss that 
Marie would go to her at once. Marie pressed 
her lips together, clenched her fists, and walked 
down into the room without the delay of an 
instant. 

s 



258 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

< Marie, my dear,' said Madame Yoss, ' M. le 
Cure wishes to speak to you. I will leave you 
for a few minutes.' There was nothing for it 
but to listen. Marie could not refuse to be lec- 
tured by the priest. But she told herself that 
having had the courage to resist her uncle, it 
certainly was out of the question that any one 
else should have the power to move her. 

i My dear Marie,' began the Cure, c your aunt 
has been telling me of this little difference be- 
tween you and your affianced husband. "Won't 
you sit down, Marie, because we shall be able so 
to talk more comfortably ?' 

l I don't want to talk about it at ail,' said 
Marie. But she sat down as she was bidden. 

' But, my dear, it is needful that your friends 
should talk to you. I am sure that you have too 
much sense to think that a young woman like 
yourself should refuse to hear her friends . ' Marie 
had it almost on her tongue to tell the priest that 
the only friends to whom she chose to listen were 
her uncle and her aunt, but she thought that it 
might perhaps be better that she should remain 
silent. l Of course, my dear, a young person like 
you must know that she must walk by advice, 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 259 

and I am sure you must feel that no one can give 
it you more fittingly than your own priest.' Then 
he took a large pinch of snuff. 

1 If it were anything to do with the Church, 
— yes/ she said. 

'And this has to do with the Church, very 
much. Indeed I do not know how any of our 
duties in this life cannot have to do with the 
Church. There can be no duty omitted as to 
which you would not acknowledge that it was 
necessary that you should get absolution from 
your priest.' 

' But that would be in the church,' said 
Marie, not quite knowing how to make good her 
point. 

1 Whether you are in the church or out of 
it, is just the same. If you were sick and in 
bed, would your priest be nothing to you then ?' 

1 But I am quite well, Father Gondin.' 

' "Well in health ; but sick in spirit, — as I am 
sure you must own. And I must explain to you, 
my dear, that this is a matter in which your re- 
ligious duty is specially in question. You have 
been betrothed, you know, to M. Urmand.' 

' But people betrothed are very often not mar- 



260 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

ried,' said Marie quickly. i There was Annette 
Lolme at Saint Die. She was betrothed to Jean 
Stein at Pugnac. That was only last winter. 
And then there was something wrong about the 
money ; and the betrothal went for nothing, and 
Father Carrier himself said it was all right. If 
it was all right for Annette Lolme, it must be all 
right for me as far as betrothing goes.' 

The story that Marie told so clearly was per- 
fectly true, and M. le Cure Gondin knew that 
it was true. He wished now to teach Marie 
that if certain circumstances should occur after a 
betrothal which would make the marriage inex- 
pedient in the eyes of the parents of the young 
people, then the authority of the Church would 
not exert itself to insist on the sacred nature of 
the pledge ; — but that if the pledge was to be 
called in question simply at the instance of a 
capricious young woman, then the Church would 
have* full power. His object, in short, was to 
insist on parental authority, giving to parental 
authority some little additional strength from his 
own sacerdotal recognition of the sanctity of the 
betrothing promise. But he feared that Marie 
would be too strong for him, if not also too clear- 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 261 

headed. c You cannot mean to tell me,' said he, 
' that you think such a solemn promise as you 
have given to this young man, taking one from 
him as solemn in return, is to go for nothing ?' 

' I am very sorry that I promised, — very sorry 
indeed ; but I cannot keep my promise.' 

' You are bound to keep it, especially as all 
your friends wish the marriage, and think that it 
will be good for you. Annette Lolme's friends 
wished her not to marry. It is my duty to tell 
you, Marie, that if you break your faith to M. 
Urmand, you will commit a very grievous sin, 
and you will commit it with your eyes open.' 

1 If Annette Lolme might change her mind 
because her lover had not got as much money as 
people wanted, I am sure I may change mine be- 
cause I don't love a man.' 

1 Annette did what her friends advised her.' 

' Then a girl must always do what her friends 
tell her ? If I don't marry M. Urmand, I sha'n't 
be wicked for breaking my promise, but for dis- 
obeying Uncle Michel.' 

'You will be wicked in every way,' said the 
priest. 

'No, M. le Cure. If I had married M. Ur- 



262 THE GOLDEX LION OF GRANPERE. 

mand, I know I should be wicked to leave him, 
and I wonld do my best to live with him and 
make him a good wife. But I have found out in 
time that I can't love him ; and therefore I am 
sure that I ought not to marry him, and I won't.' 

There was much more said between them, 
but M. le Cure Gondin was not able to prevail 
in the least. He tried to cajole her, and he tried 
to persuade by threats, and he tried to conquer 
her by gratitude and affection towards her uncle. 
But he could not prevail at all. 

1 It is of no use my staying here any longer, 
M. le Cure,' she said at last, i because I am quite 
sure that nothing on earth will induce me to con- 
sent. I am very sorry for what I have done. If 
you tell me that I have sinned, I will repent and 
confess it. I have repented, and am very, very 
sorry. I know now that I was very wrong ever 
to think it possible that I could be his wife. 
But you can't make me think that I am wrong in 
this.' 

Then she left him, and as soon as she was 
gone, Madame Yoss returned to hear the priest's 
report as to his success. 

In the mean time, Michel Yoss had reached 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEEE. 263 

Basle, arriving there some five hours before 
Marie's letter, and, in his ignorance of the law, 
had made his futile attempt to intercept the letter 
before it reached the hands of M. Urmand. But 
he was with Urmand when the letter was de- 
livered, and endeavoured to persuade his young 
friend not to open it. But in doing this he was 
obliged to explain, to a certain extent, what was 
the nature of the letter. He was obliged to say 
so much about it as to justify the unhappy lover 
in asserting that it would be better for them all 
that he should know the contents. 'At any 
rate, you will promise not to believe it,' said 
Michel. And he did succeed in obtaining from 
M. Urmand a sort of promise that he would not 
regard the words of the letter as in truth express- 
ing Marie's real resolution. ' Girls, you know, 
are such queer cattle,' said Michel. ' They think 
about all manner of things, and then they don't 
know what they are thinking.' • 

'But who is the other man?' demanded 
Adrian, as soon as he had finished the letter. 
Any one judging from his countenance when he 
asked the question would have imagined that in 
spite of his promise he believed every word that 



264 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

Iiad been written to him. His face was a picture 
of blank despair, and bis voice was low and 
hoarse. J You must know whom she means/ he 
added, when Michel did not at once reply. 

' Yes ; I know whom she means.' 

' Who is it then, M. Yoss V 

'It is George, of course/ replied the inn- 
keeper. 

C I did not know,' said poor Adrian Urmand. 

' She never spoke a dozen words to any other 
man in her life, and as for him, she has hardly 
seen him for the last eighteen months. He has 
come over and said something to her, like a 
traitor, — has reminded her of some childish pro- 
mise, some old vow, something said when they 
were children, and meaning nothing ; and so he 
has frightened her.' 

c I was never told that there was anything 
between them,' said Urmand, beginning to think 
that it would become him to be indignant. 

'There was nothing to tell, — literally no- 
thing.' 

' They must have been writing to each other.' 

c Never a line ; on my word as a man. It 
was just as I tell you. "When George went from 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 265 

home, there had been some fooling, as I thought, 
between them; and I was glad that he should 
go. I didn't think it meant anything, or ever 
would.' As Michel Yoss said this, there did oc- 
cur to him an idea that perhaps, after all, he had 
been wrong to interfere in the first instance, — 
that there had then been no really valid reason 
why George should not have married Marie 
Bromar; but that did not in the least influence 
his judgment as to what it might be expedient 
to do now. He was still as sure as ever that as 
things stood now, it was his duty to do all in his 
power to bring about the marriage between his 
niece and Adrian Urmand., * But since that, 
there has been nothing,' continued he, i abso- 
lutely nothing. Ask her, and she will tell you 
so. It is some romantic idea of hers that she 
ought to stick to her first promise, now that she 
has been reminded of it.' 

All this did not convince Adrian Urmand, 
who for a while expressed his opinion that it 
would be better for him to take Marie's refusal, 
and thus to let the matter drop. It would be very 
bitter to him, because all Basle had now heard of 
his proposed marriage, and a whole shower of 



266 THE GOLDEN LION OP GEANPEBE. 

congratulations had already fallen upon him from 
his fellow-townspeople : but he thought that it 
would be more bitter to be rejected again in per- 
son by Marie Eroniar, and then to be stared at 
by all the natives of Granpere. He acknow- 
ledged that George Yoss was a traitor; and 
would have been ready to own that Marie was 
another, had Michel Yoss given him any en- 
couragement in that direction. Eut Michel 
throughout the whole morning, — and they were 
closeted together for hours, — declared that poor 
Marie was more sinned against than sinning. If 
Adrian was but once more over at Granpere, all 
would be made right. At last Michel Yoss pre- 
vailed, and persuaded the young man to return 
with him to the Lion d'Or. 

They started early on the following morning, 
and travelled to Granpere by way of Colmar and 
the mountain. The father thus passed twice 
through Colmar, but on neither occasion did he 
call upon his son. 



CHAPTEE XVII. 

Theke had been very little said between Michel 
Voss and Urmand on their journey towards Gran- 
pere till they were at the top of the Vosges, on 
the mountain road, at which place they had to 
leave their little carriage and bait their horse. 
Indeed Michel had been asleep during almost the 
entire time. On the night but one before he had 
not been in bed at all, having reached Basle after 
midnight, and having passed the hours 'twixt 
that and his morning visit to Urmand's house in 
his futile endeavours to stop poor Marie's letter. 
And the departure of the travellers from Basle 
on this morning had been very early, so that the 
poor innkeeper had been robbed of his proper 
allowance of natural rest. He had slept soundly 
in the train to Colmar, and had afterwards slept 
in the little caleche which had taken them to the 
top of the mountain. Urmand had sat silent by 



268 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

his side, — by no means anxious to disturb his 
companion, because he had no determined plan 
ready to communicate. Once or twice before he 
reached Colmar he had thought that he would 
go back again. He had been, he felt, badly 
treated; and, though he was very fond of Marie, 
it would be better for him perhaps to wash his 
hands of the whole affair. He was so thinking 
the whole way to Colmar. But he was afraid 
of Michel Yoss, and when they got out upon the 
platform there, he had no resolution ready to be 
declared as fixed. Then they had hired the little 
carriage, and Michel Yoss had slept again. He 
had slept all through Mtinster, and up the steep 
mountain, and was not thoroughly awake till they 
were summoned to get out at the wonderfully 
fine house for refreshment which the late Em- 
peror caused to be built at the top of the hill. 
Here they went into the restaurant, and as Mi- 
chel Yoss was known to the man who kept it, he 
ordered a bottle of wine. < What a terrible place 
to live in all the winter !' he said, as he looked 
down through the window right into the deep 
valley below. From the spot on which the house 
is built you can see all the broken wooded ground 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPEEE. 269 

of the steep descent, and then the broad plain 
that stretches away to the valley of the Ehine. 
' There is nothing bnt snow here after Christmas,' 
continued Michel, < and perhaps not a Christian 
oyer the road for days together. I shouldn't like 
it, I know. It may be all very well just now.' 

But Adrian Urmancl was altogether inatten- 
tive either to the scenery now before him, or to 
the prospect of the mountain innkeeper's winter 
life. He knew that two hours and a half would 
take them down the mountain into Granpere, and 
that when there, it would be at once necessary 
that he should begin a task the idea of which was 
by no means pleasant to him. He was quite sure 
now that he wished he had remained at Basle, 
and that he had accepted Marie's letter as final. 
He told himself again and again that he could 
not make her marry him if she chose to change 
her mind. "What was he to say, and what was 
he to do when he got to Granpere, a place which 
he almost wished that he had never seen in spite 
of those profitable linen-buyings ? And now 
when Michel Voss began to talk to him about the 
scenery, and what this man up in the mountain 
did in the winter, — at this moment when his ter- 



270 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

rible trouble was so very near him, — he felt it 
to be an insult, or at least a cruelty. ' What can 
he do from December till April except smoke 
and drink ?' asked Michel Yoss. 

£ I don't care what he does,' said Urmand, 
turning away. i I only know I wish I'd never 
come here.' 

' Take a glass of wine, my friend,' said Michel. 
' The mountain air has made you chill.' Urmand 
took the glass of wine, but it did not cheer him 
much. ( ¥e shall have it all right before the 
day is over,' continued Michel. 

1 I don't think it will ever be all right,' said 
the other. 

' And why not ? The fact is, you don't un- 
derstand young women ; as how should you, see- 
ing that you have not had to manage them? 
You do as I tell you, and just be round with her. 
You tell her that you don't desire any change 
yourself, and that after what has passed you can't 
allow her to think of such a thing. You speak 
as though you had a downright claim, as you 
have ; and all will come right. It's not that she 
cares for him, you know. You must remember 
that. She has never even said a word of that 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GKANPERE. 271 

kind. I haven't a doubt on my mind as to which 
she really likes best ; but it's that stupid promise, 
and the way that George has had of making her 
believe that she is bound by the first word she 
ever spoke to a young man. It's only nonsense, 
and of course we must get over it.' Then they 
were summoned out, the horse having finished 
his meal, and were rattled down the hill into 
Granpere without many more words between 
them. 

One other word was spoken, and that word 
was hardly pleasant in its tone. Urmand at least 
did not relish it. l I shall go away at once if she 
doesn't treat me as she ought,' said he, just as 
they were entering the village. 

Michel was silent for a moment before he 
answered. ' You'll behave, I'm sure, as a man 
ought to behave to a young woman whom he in- 
tends to make his wife.' The words themselves 
were civil enough; but there was a tone in the 
innkeeper's voice and a flame in his eye, which 
made Urmancl almost feel that he had been threat- 
ened. Then they drove into the space in front 
of the door of the Lion d'Or. 

Michel had made for himself no plan what- 



272 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

soever. He led the way at once into the house, 
and TJrmand followed, hardly daring to look up 
into the faces of the persons around him. They 
were both of them soon in the presence of Madame 
Voss, but Marie Bromar was not there. Marie 
had been sharp enough to perceive who was com- 
ing before they were out of the carriage, and was 
already ensconced in some safer retreat up-stairs, 
in which she could meditate on her plan of the 
campaign. 'Look lively, and get us something 
to eat,' said Michel, meaning to be cheerful and 
self-possessed. i We left Basle at five, and have 
not eaten a mouthful since.' It was now nearly 
four o'clock, and the bread and cheese which had 
been served with the wine on the top of the moun- 
tain had of course gone for nothing. Madame 
Yoss immediately began to bustle about, calling 
the cook and Peter Veque to her assistance. But 
nothing for a while was said about Marie. TJr- 
mand, trying to look as though he were self-pos- 
sessed, stood with his back to the stove, and 
whistled. For a few minutes, during which the 
bustling about the table went on, Michel was 
wrapped in thought, and said nothing. At last he 
had made up his mind, and spoke : ' "We might as 



THE GOLDEN LION OF CIRANPEEE. 273 

well make a clash at it at once,' said he. ' "Where 
is Marie ?' No one answered him. ' Where is 
Marie Bromar?' he asked again, angrily. He 
knew that it behoved him now to take upon him- 
self at once the real authority of a master of a 
honse. 

' She is up- stairs,' said Peter, who was straight- 
ening a table-cloth. 

' Tell her to come down to me/ said her uncle. 
Peter departed immediately, and for a while there 
was silence in the little room. Adrian Urmand 
felt his heart to palpitate disagreeably. Indeed, 
the manner in which it would appear that the 
innkeeper proposed to manage the business was 
distressing enough to him. It seemed as though 
it were intended that he should discuss his little 
difficulties with Marie in the presence of the 
whole household. But he stood his ground, and 
sounded one more ineffectual little whistle. In a 
few minutes Peter returned, but said nothing. 
c Where is Marie Bromar ?' again demanded 
Michel in an angry voice. 

' I told her to come down/ said Peter. 

1 Well ?' 

< I don't think she's coming/ said Peter. 



274 THE GOLDEN LION OF GIIANPEKE. 

< What did she say ?' 

' Not a word ; she only bade me go down.' 
Then Michel walked into the kitchen as though 
he were about to fetch the recusant himself. But 
he stopped himself, and asked his wife to go up 
to Marie. Madame Yoss did go up, and after her 
return there was some whispering between her 
and her husband. l She is upset by the excite- 
ment of your return,' Michel said at last ; l and 
we must give her a little grace. Come, we will 
eat our dinner.' 

In the mean time Marie was sitting on her bed 
up-stairs in a most unhappy plight. She really 
loved her uncle, and almost feared him. She did 
fear him with that sort of fear which is produced, 
by reverence and habits of obedience, but which, 
when softened by affection, hardly makes itself 
known as fear, excejDt on troublous occasions. 
And she was oppressed by the remembrance of all 
that was due from her to him and to her aunt, 
feeling, as it was natural that she should do, in 
compliance with the manners and habits of her 
people, that she owed a duty of obedience in this 
matter of marriage. Though she had been able 
to hold her own against the priest, and had been 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEEE. 275 

quite firm in opposition to her aunt, — who was 
in truth a woman much less strong by nature than 
herself, — she dreaded a farther dispute with her 
uncle. She could not bear to think that he should 
be enabled to accuse her with justice of ingrati- 
tude. It had been her great pleasure to be true 
to him, and he had answered her truth by a per- 
fect confidence which had given a charm to her 
life. Now this would all be over, and she would 
be driven again to beg him to send her away, 
that she might become a household drudge else- 
where. And now that this very moment of her 
agony had come, and that this man to whom she 
had given a promise was there to claim her, how 
was she to go down and say what she had to say, 
before all the world ? It was perfectly clear to 
her that in accordance with her reception of Ur- 
mand at the first moment of their meeting, so 
must be her continued conduct towards him, till 
he should leave her, or else take her away with 
him. She could not smile on him and shake hands 
with him, and cut his bread for him and pour out 
his wine, after such a letter as she had written to 
him, without signifying thereby that the letter 
was to go for nothing. Now, let what might 



276 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

happen, the letter was not to go for nothing. The 
letter was to remain a true fact, and a true letter. 
i I can't go down. Aunt Josey ; indeed I can't,' 
she said. c I am not well, and I should drop. 
Pray tell Uncle Michel, with my best love and with 
my duty, that I can't go to him now.' And she 
sat still upon her bed, not weeping, but clasping 
her hands, and trying to see her way out of her 
misfortune. 

The dinner was eaten in grim silence, and 
after the dinner Michel, still grimly silent, sat 
with his friend on the bench before the door and 
smoked a cigar. While he was smoking, Michel 
said never a word. But he was thinking of the 
difficulty he had to overcome ; and he was think- 
ing also, at odd moments, whether his own son 
George was not, after all, a better sort of lover 
for a young woman than this young man who 
was seated by his side. Bat it never occurred to 
him that he might find a solution of the difficulty 
by encouraging this second idea. Urmand, dur- 
ing this time, was telling himself that it behoved 
him to be a man, and that his sitting there in 
silence was hardly proof of his manliness. He 
knew that he was being ill-treated, and that he 



THE GOLDEN LION OE GRANPERE. 277 

must do something to redress his own wrongs, if 
he only knew how to do it. He was quite deter- 
mined that he would not be a coward; that he 
would stand up for his own rights. But if a 
young woman won't marry a man, a man can't 
make her do so, either by scolding her, or by 
fighting any of her friends. In this case the 
young lady's friends were all on his side. But 
the weight of that half hour of silence and of 
Michel's gloom was intolerable to him. At last 
he got up and declared he would go and see an 
old woman who would have linen to sell. ' As I 
am here, I might as well do a stroke of work,' 
he said, striving to be jocose. 

'Do,' said Michel ; l and in the mean time I 
will see Marie Bromar.' 

Whenever Michel Yoss was heard to call his 
niece Marie Bromar, using the two names, it was 
understood, by all who heard him about the 
hotel, that he was not in a good humour. As soon 
as Urmand was gone, he rose slowly from his 
seat, and with heavy steps he went up -stairs in 
search of the refractory girl. He went straight 
to her own bedroom, and there he found her still 
sitting on her bedside. She jumped up as soon 



278 THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPERE. 

as he was in the room, and running up to him, 
took him by the arm. ' Uncle Michel,' she said, 
6 P ra y> P ra y be E 00 & t° me. Pray, spare me !' 

1 1 am good to you,' he said. ' I try to be good 
to you/ 

i You know that I love you. Do you not 
know that I love you ?' Then she paused, but he 
made no answer to her. He was surer of nothing 
in the world than he was of her affection ; but it 
did not suit him to acknowledge it at that mo- 
ment. ' I would do anything for you that I could 
do, Uncle Michel ; but pray do not ask me to do 
this ?' Then she clasped him tightly, and hung 
upon him, and put up her face to be kissed. But 
he would not kiss her. ' Ah,' said she ; c you 
mean to be hard to me. Then I must go ; then I 
must go ; then I must go.' 

'That is nonsense, Marie. You cannot go, 
till you go to your husband. Where would you 
go to V 

c It matters not where I go to now.' 

' Marie, you are betrothed to this man, and 
you must consent to become his wife. Say that 
you will consent, and all this nonsense shall be 
forgotten.' She did not say that she would con- 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 279 

sent ; but she did not say that she -would not, and 
he thought that he might persuade her, if he could 
speak to her as he ought. But he doubted which 
might be most efficacious, affection or severity. 
He had assured himself that it would be his duty 
to be very severe, before he gave up the point ; 
but it might be possible, as she was so sweet 
with him, so loving and so gracious, that affec- 
tion might prevail. If so, how much easier would 
the task be to himself ! So he put his arm round 
her, and stooped down and kissed her. 

' 0, Uncle Michel,' she said; i dear, dear Un- 
cle Michel ; say that you will spare me, and be 
on my side, and be good to me.' 

' My darling girl, it is for your own good, for 
the good of us all, that you should marry -this 
man. Do you not know that I would not tell 
you so, if it were not true ? I cannot be more 
good to you than that.' 

1 I can — not, Uncle Michel.' 

' Tell me why, now. "What is it ? Has any- 
body been bringing tales to you ?' 

1 Nobody has brought any tales.' 

i Is there anything amiss with him ?' 

i It is not that. It is not that at all. I am 



280 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

sure lie is an excellent young man, and I wish 
with all my heart he had a better wife than I can 
ever be.' 

'He thinks you will be quite good enough 
for him.' 

c I am not good for anybody. I am very bad.' 

i Leave him to judge of that.' 

'But I cannot do it, Uncle Michel. I can 
never be Adrian Urmand's wife.' 

i But why, why, why ?' repeated Michel, 
who was beginning to be again angered by his 
own want of success. l You have said that a 
dozen times, but have never attempted to give a 
reason.' 

6 1 will tell you the reason. It is because I 
love- George with all my heart, and with all my 
soul. He is so dear to me, that I should always 
be thinking of him. I could not help myself. I 
should always have him in my heart. "Would 
that be right, Uncle Michel, if I were married to 
another man ?' 

c Then why did you accept the other man ? 
There is nothing changed since then.' 

' I was wicked then.' 

' I don't think you were wicked at all ; — but 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 281 

at any rate you did it. You didn't think any- 
thing about having George in your heart then.' 

It was very hard for her to answer this, and 
for a moment or two she was silenced. At last 
she found a reply. ' I thought everything was 
dead within me then, — and that it didn't signify. 
Since that he has been here, and he has told me 
all.' 

' I wish he had stayed where he was with all 
my heart. "We did not want him here,' said the 
innkeeper in his anger. 

' But he did come, Uncle Michel. I did not 
send for him, but he did come.' 

* Yes ; he came, — and he has disturbed every- 
thing that I had arranged so happily. Look here, 
Marie. I lay my commands upon you as your 
uncle and guardian, and I may say also as your 
best and stanchest friend, to be true to the 
solemn engagement which you have made with 
this young man. I will not hear any answer 
from you now, but I leave you with that com- 
mand. Urmand has come here at my request, 
because I told him that you would be obedient. 
If you make a fool of me, and of yourself, and of 
us all, it will be impossible that I should forgive- 



282 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

you. He will see you this evening, and I will 
trust to your good sense to receive him with pro- 
priety.' Then Michel Yoss left the room and 
descended with ponderous steps, indicative of a 
heavy heart. 

Marie, when she was alone, again seated her- 
self on the bedside. Of course she must see 
Adrian Urmand. She was quite aware that she 
could not encounter him now with that half-saucy 
independent air which had come to her quite 
naturally before she had accepted him. She 
would willingly humble herself in the dust before 
him, if by so doing she could induce him to re- 
linquish his suit. But if she could not do so; if 
she could not talk over either her uncle or him to 
be on what she called her side, then what should 
she do ? Her uncle's entreaties to her, joined to 
his too evident sorrow, had upon her an effect so 
powerful, that she could hardly overcome it. She 
had, as she thought, resolved most positively that 
nothing should induce her to marry Adrian Ur- 
mand. She had of course been very firm in this 
resolution when she wrote her letter. But now 
— now she was almost shaken ! "When she 
thought only of herself, she would almost task 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 283 

herself to believe that after all it did not much 
matter what of happiness or of unhappiness might 
befall her. If she allowed herself to be taken to 
a new home at Basle she could still work and eat 
and drink, — and working, eating, and drinking 
she could wait till her unhappiness should be re- 
moved. She was sufficiently wise to understand 
that as she became a middle-aged woman, with 
perhaps children around her, her sorrow would 
melt into a soft regret which would be at least 
endurable. And what did it signify after all how 
much one such a being as herself might suffer ? 
The world would go on in the same way, and her 
small troubles would be of but little significance. 
Work would save her from utter despondence. 
But when she thought of George, and the words 
in which he had expressed the constancy of his 
own love, and the shipwreck which would fall 
upon him if she were untrue to him, — then again 
she would become strong in her determination. 
Her uncle had threatened her with his lasting 
displeasure. He had said that it would be im- 
possible that he should forgive her. That would 
be unbearable ! Yet, when she thought of George, 
she told herself that it must be borne. 



284 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEKE. 

Before the hour of supper came, her aunt had 
been with her, and she had promised to see her 
suitor alone. There had been some doubt on this 
point between Michel and his wife, Madame Yoss 
thinking that either she or her husband ought to 
be present. But Michel had prevailed. l I don't 
care what any people may say,' he replied. £ I 
know my own girl; — and I know also what he 
has a right to expect.' So it was settled, and 
Marie understood that Adrian was to come to her 
in the little brightly furnished sitting-room up- 
stairs. On this occasion she took no notice of the 
hotel supper at all. It is to be hoped that Peter 
Yeque proved himself equal to the occasion. 

At about nine she was seated in the appointed 
place, and Madame Yoss brought her lover up 
into the room. 

' Here is M. Urmancl come to speak to you/ 
she said. l Your uncle thinks that you had bet- 
ter see him alone. I am sure you will bear in 
mind what it is that he and I wish.' Then she 
closed the door, and Adrian and Marie were left 
together. 

6 1 need hardly tell you,' said he, 'what were 
my feelings when your uncle came to me yester- 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEEE. 285 

day morning. And when I opened your letter 
and read it, I could hardly believe that it had 
come from you.' 

' Yes, M. Urmand ; — it did come from me. : 

c And why — what have I done ? The last 
word you had spoken to me was to declare that 
you would be my loving wife.' 

c Not that, M. Urmand ; never that. "When I 
thought it was to be so, I told you that I would 
do my best to do my duty by you.' 

c Say that once more, and all shall be right.' 

; But I never promised that I would love you. 
I could not promise that ; and I was very wicked 
to allow them to give you my troth. You can't 
think worse of me than I think of myself.' 

< But, Marie, why should you not love me ? 
I am sure you would love me.' 

'Listen to me, M. Urmand; listen to me, and 
be generous to me. I think you can be generous 
to a poor girl who is very unhappy. I do not love 
you. I do not say that I should not have loved you, 
if you had been the first. Why should not any girl 
love you ? You are above me in every way, and 
rich, and well spoken of; and your life has been 
less rough and poor than mine. It is not that I 



286 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

have been proud. What is there that I can be 
proud of — except my uncle's trust in me ? But 
George Yoss had come to me before, and had made 
me promise that I would love him ; — and I do 
love him. How can I help it, if I wished to help 
it ? 0, M. Urmand, can you not be generous ? 
Think how little it is that you will lose.' But 
Adrian Urmand did not like to be told of the 
girl's love for another man. His generosity 
would almost have been more easily reached had 
she told him of George's love for her. People had 
assured him since he was engaged that Marie 
Bromar was the handsomest girl in Lorraine or 
Alsace ; and he felt it to be an injury that this 
handsome girl should prefer such a one as George 
Voss to himself. Marie, with a woman's sharp- 
ness, perceived all this accurately. c Eemember,' 
said she, 'that I had hardly seen you when 
George and I were — when he and I became such 
friends.' 

'Your uncle doesn't want you to marry his 
son.' 

' I shall never become George's wife without 
his consent ; never.' 

' Then what would be the use of my giving 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 287 

way?' asked Urmand. 'He would never con- 
sent.' 

She paused for a moment before she replied. 

'To save yourself,' said she, 'from living 
with a woman who cannot love you, and to save 
me from living with a man I cannot love.' 

1 And is this to be all the answer you will 
give me ?' 

' It is the request that I have to make to you,' 
said Marie. 

' Then I had better go down to your uncle.' 
And he went down to Michel Voss, leaving Marie 
Bromar again alone. 



CHAPTEE XNTIIL 

The people of Colmar think Colmar to be a con- 
siderable place, and far be it from us to bint that 
it is not so. It is — or was in the days when 
Alsace was French — the chief town of the depart- 
ment of the Haut Ehine. It bristles with bar- 
racks, and is busy with cotton factories. It has 
been accustomed to the presence of a prefet, and 
is no doubt important. But it is not so large that 
people going in and out of it can pass without at- 
tention, and this we take to be the really true 
line of demarcation between a big town and a 
little one. Had Michel Voss and Adrian Ur- 
mand passed through Lyons or Strasbourg on 
their journey to Granpere, no one would have 
noticed them, and their acquaintances in either 
of those cities would not have been a bit the 
wiser. But it was not probable that they should 
leave the train at the Colmar station, and 
hire Daniel Bredin's caleclte for the mountain 



THE GOLDEN LION OE GEAXPERE. 289 

journey thence to Granpere, without all the facts 
of the case coming to the ears of Madame Fara- 
gon. And when she had heard the news, of course 
she told it to George Voss. She had interested 
herself very keenly in the affair of George's love, 
partly because she had a soft heart of her own and 
loved a ray of romance to fall in upon her as she 
sat fat and helpless in her easy-chair, and partly 
because she thought that the future landlord of 
the Hotel de la Poste at Colmar ought to be re- 
garded as a bigger man and a better match than 
any Swiss linen-merchant in the world. 1 1 can't 
think what it is that your father means,' she had 
said. i When he and I were young, he used not 
to be so fond of the people of Basle, and he didn't 
think so much then of a peddling buyer of sheet- 
ings and shirtings.' Madame Faragon was rather 
fond of alluding to past times, and of hinting to 
George that in early days, had she been willing, 
she might have been mistress of the Lion d'Or at 
Granpere, instead of the Poste at Colmar. George 
never quite believed the boast, as he knew that 
Madame Faragon was at least ten years older than 
his father. i He used to think,' continued Ma- 
dame Faragon, i that there was nothing better 

u 



290 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

than a good house in the public line, with a well- 
spirited woman inside it to stand her gronnd and 
hold her own. But everything is changed now, 
since the railroads came up. The pedlars become 
merchants, and the respectable old shopkeepers 
must go to the wall.' George would hear all this 
in silence, though he knew that his old friend was 
endeavouring to comfort him by making little of 
the Basle linen-merchant. Now, when Madame 
Paragon learned that Michel Yoss and Adrian 
Urmand had gone through Colmar back from 
Basle on their way to Granpere, she immediately 
foresaw what was to happen. Marie's marriage 
was to be hurried on, George was to be thrown 
overboard, and the pedlar's pack was to be tri- 
umphant over the sign of the innkeeper. 

'If I were you, George, I would clash in 
among them at once,' said Madame Faragon. 

George was silent for a minute or two, leav- 
ing the room and returning to it before he made 
any answer. Then he declared that he would 
dash in among them at Granpere. 

'It will be better to go over and sec it all 
settled,' he said. 

c But, George, you won't quarrel ? : 



THE GOLDEN LION OE GEANPEEE. 291 

* "What do yon mean by quarrelling ? I don't 
suppose that this man and I can be very clear 
friends when we meet each other.' 

• You won't have any fighting ? O, George, 
if I thought there was going to be fighting, I 
would go myself to prevent it.' Madame Faragon 
no doubt was sincere in her desire that there 
should be no fighting ; but, nevertheless, there 
was a life and reality about this little affair which 
had a gratifying effect upon her. ' If I thought 
I could do any good, I really would go,' she said 
again afterwards. But George did not encourage 
her to make the attempt. 

ISTo more was said about it ; but early on the 
following morning, or in truth long before the 
morning had dawned, George had started upon 
his journey, following his father and M. Urmand 
in their route over the mountain. This was the 
third time he had gone to Granpere in the course 
of the present autumn, and on each time he had 
gone without invitation and without warning. 
And yet, previous to this, he had remained above 
a year at Colmar without taking any notice of his 
family. He knew that his father would not make 
him welcome, and he almost doubted whether it 



292 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRA.NPERE. 

would be proper for him to drive himself direct 
to the door of the hotel. His father had told him, 
"when they were last parting from each other, 
that he was nothing but a trouble. c You are all 
trouble,' his father had said to him. And then 
his father had threatened to have him turned 
from the door by the servants, if he should come 
to the house again before Marie and Adrian were 
married. He was not afraid of his father ; but 
he felt that he had no right to treat the Lion cl'Or 
as his own home unless he was prepared to obey 
his father. And he knew nothing as to Marie 
and her purpose. He had learned from her that, 
were she left to herself, she would give herself 
with all her heart to him. But she would not be 
left to herself, and he only knew now that Adrian 
Urmand was being taken back to Granpere, — of 
course with the intention that the marriage should 
be at once perfected. Madame Paragon had, no 
cloubt, been right in her advice as to dashing in 
among them at once. Whatever was to be done 
must be done now. But it was by no means 
clear to him how he was to carry on the war 
when he found himself among them all at Gran- 
pere. 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GKANPERE. 293 

It was now October, and the morning on 
the mountain was very dark and cold. He had 
started from Colmar between three and four, so 
that he had passed through Minister, and was 
ascending the hill before six. He stopped, too, 
and fed his horse at the Emperor's house at the 
top, and fortified himself with a tumbler of wine 
and a hunch of bread. He meant to go into 
Granpere and claim Marie as his own. He would 
go to the priest, and to the pastor if necessary, 
and forbid all authorities to lend their counte- 
nance to the proposed marriage. He would 
speak his mind plainly, and would accuse his 
father of extreme cruelty. He would call upon 
Madame Yoss to save her niece. He would be 
very savage with Marie, hoping that he might 
thereby save her from herself, — defying her to 
say either before man or God that she loved the 
man whom she was about to make her husband. 

And as to Adrian Urmand himself ; he still 

thought that, should the worst come to the worst, 
he would try some process of choking upon 
Adrian TJrmand. Any use of personal violence 
would be distasteful to him and contrary to his 
nature. He was not a man who in the ordinary 



294 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEE E. 

way of his life would probably lift Ms band 
against another. Such liftings of hands on the 
part of other men he regarded as a falling back 
to the truculence of savage life. Men should 
manage and coerce each other either with the 
tongue, or with money, or with the law — accord- 
ing to his theory of life. But on such an occasion 
as this he found himself obliged to acknowledge 
that, if the worst should come to the worst, some 
attempt at choking his enemy must be made. It 
must be made for Marie's sake, if not for his 
own. In this mood of mind he drove down to 
Granpere, and, not knowing where else to stop, 
drew up his horse in the middle of the road before 
the hotel. The stable-servant, who was hanging 
about, immediately came to him ; — and there was 
his father standing, all alone, at the door of the 
house. It was now ten o'clock, and he had ex- 
pected that his father would have been away from 
home, as was his custom at that hour. But the 
innkeeper's mind was at present too full of trou- 
ble to allow of his going off either to the wood- 
cutting or to the farm. 

Adrian Urmand, after his failure with Marie 
on the preceding evening, had not again gone 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 295 

down-stairs. He had taken himself at once to 
his bed-room, and had remained there gloomy 
and unhappy, very angry with Marie Bromar; 
but, if possible, more angry with Michel Voss. 
Knowing, as he must have known, how the land 
lay, why had the innkeeper brought him from 
Basle to Granpere ? He found himself to have 
been taken in, from first to last, by the whole 
household, and he would at this moment have 
been glad to obliterate Granpere altogether from 
among the valleys of the Yosges. And so he 
went to bed in his wrath. Michel and^ Madame 
Yoss sat below waiting for him above an hour. 
Madame Yoss more than once proposed that she 
should go up and see what was happening. It 
was impossible, she declared, that they should be 
talking together all that time. But her husband 
had stayed her. ' Whatever they have to say, 
let them say it out.' It seemed to him that 
Marie must be giving wa}^, if she submitted her- 
self to so long an interview. When at last 
Madame Yoss did go up-stairs, she learned from 
the maid that M. Urmand had been in bed ever 
so long; and on going to Marie's chamber, she 
found her sitting where she had sat before. 



296 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEEE. 

i Yes, Aunt Josey, I -will go to bed at once,' she 
said. i Give uncle my love.' Then Aunt Josey 
had returned to her husband, and neither of them 
had been able to extract any comfort from the 
affairs of the evening. 

Early on the following morning, M. le Cure 
was called to a consultation. This was very dis- 
tasteful to Michel Voss, because he was himself 
a Protestant, and, having lived all his life with a 
Protestant son and two Eoman Catholic women 
in the house, he had come to feel that Father 
Gondin's religion was a religion for the weaker 
sex. He troubled himself very little with the 
doctrinal differences, having no slightest touch of 
an idea that he was to be saved because he was a 
Protestant, and that they were in peril because 
they were Eoman Catholics. Nor, indeed, was 
there any such idea on either side prevalent in 
the valley. What M. le Cure himself may have 
believed, who can say ? But he never taught 
his parishioners that their Protestant uncles and 
wives and children were to be damned. Michel 
Voss was averse to priestly assistance ; but now 
he submitted to it. He hardly knew himself how 
far that betrothal was a binding ceremony. But 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPEEE. 297 

lie felt strongly that lie had committed himself to 
the marriage ; that it did not become him to 
allow that his son had been right ; and also that 
if Marie would only marry the man, she would 
find herself quite happy in her new home. So 
M. le Cure was called in, and there was a con- 
sultation. M. le Cure was quite as hot in fa- 
vour of the marriage as were the other persons 
concerned. It was, in the first place, infinitely 
preferable in his eyes that his young parishioner 
should marry a Eoman Catholic. But he was 
not able to undertake to use any special thunders 
of the Church. He could tell the young woman 
what was her duty, and he had done so. If her 
guardians wished it, he would do so again, very 
strongly. But he did not know how he was to 
do more. Then the priest told the story of An- 
nette Lolme, pointing out how well Marie was 
acquainted with all the bearings of the case, i 

i But both consented to break it off in that 
case/ said Michel. It was singular to observe 
how cruel he had become against the girl whom 
he so dearly loved. The Cure explained to him 
again that neither the Church nor the law could 
interfere to make her marry M. Urmand. It might 



298 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

"be explained to her that she -would commit a sin 
requiring penitence and absolution if she did not 
marry him. The Church could go no farther than 
that. But — such was the Cure's opinion — there 
was no power at the command of Michel Yoss by 
which he could force his niece to marry the man, 
unless his own internal power as a friend and a 
protector might enable him to do so. i She doesn't 
care a straw for that now/ said he. c Kot a straw. 
Since that fellow was over here, she thinks no- 
thing of me, and nothing of her word.' Then he 
went out to the hotel door, leaving the priest with 
his wife, and he had not stood there for a minute 
or two before he saw his son's arrival. Marie, 
in the mean time, had not left her room. She had 
sent word down to her uncle that she was ill, and 
that she would beg him to go up to her. As yet 
he had not seen her; but a message had been 
taken to her, saying that he would come soon. 
Adrian Urmand had breakfasted alone, and had 
since been wandering about the house by himself. 
He also, from the windows of the billiard-room, 
had seen the arrival of George Yoss. 

Michel Yoss, when he saw George, did not 
move from his place. He was still very angry 



THE GOLDEN LION OE GRANPERE. 299 

with his son, vehemently angry, because his son 
stood in the way of the completion of his desires. 
But he had forgotten all his threats, spoken now 
nearly a week ago. He was altogether oblivious 
of his declaration that he would have George 
turned away from the door by the servants of the 
inn. That his own son should treat his house, as 
a home was so natural to him, that it did not 
even occur to him now that he could bid him 
not to enter. There he was again, creating more 
trouble; and, as far as our friend the innkeeper 
could see, likely enough to be successful in his 
object. Michel stood his ground, with his hands 
in his pockets, because he would not even shake 
hands with his son. But when George came up, 
he bowed a recognition with his head ; as though 
he should have said, ' I see you ; but I cannot 
say that you are welcome to Granpere.' George 
stood for a moment or two, and then addressed 
his father. 

c Adrian Urmand is here with you, is he not, 
father?' 

' He is in the house somewhere,' said Michel, 
sullenly. 

' May I speak to him ? 



300 THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPEEE. 

<I am not his keeper; not his/ and Michel 
put a special accent on the last word, by which 
he implied that though he was not the keeper of 
Adrian Urmand, he was the keeper of somebody 
else. George stood awhile, hesitating, by his 
father's side, and as he stood he saw throngh the 
window of the billiard-room the figure of Urmand, 
who was watching them. 'Your mother is in 
her own room; you had better go to her,' said 
Michel. Then George entered the hotel, and his 
father went across the court to seek Urmand in 
his retreat. In this way the difficulty of the first 
meeting was overcome, and George did not find 
himself turned out of the Lion d'Or. 

He knew of course nothing of the state of 
affairs at the inn. It might be that Marie had 
already given way, and was still the promised 
bride of this man. Indeed, to him it seemed most 
probable that such should be the case. He had 
been sent to look for Madame Yoss, and Madame 
Yoss he found in the kitchen. 

< 0, George, who expected to see you here to- 
day !' she exclaimed. 

'Nobody, I daresay/ he replied. The cook 
was there, and two or three other servants and 



THE GOLDEN LION OE GEANPEEE. 301 

hangers-on. It was impossible that he should 
speak out before so many persons, and he had 
not a friend about the place, unless Marie was 
his friend. After a few moments he went into 
the inner room, and Madame Yoss followed him. 
'Well,' said he, 'has anything been settled?' 

c I am sorry to say that everything is as un- 
settled as it can be/ said Madame Yoss. 

Then Marie must be true to him ! And if so, 
she must be the grandest woman, the finest girl 
that had ever been created. If so, would he not 
be true to her ? If so, with what a true worship 
would he offer her all that he had to give in the 
world ! He had come there before determined to 
crush her with his thunderbolt. Now he would 
swear to cherish her and keep her warm with his 
love for ever and ever. ' Is she here ?' he asked. 
4 She is up-stairs, in bed. You cannot see her.' 
1 She is not ill ?' 

i She is making everybody else ill about the 
place, I know that,' said Madame Yoss. l And 
as for you, George, you owe a different kind of 
treatment to your father ; you do indeed. It will 
make an old man of him. He has set his heart 
upon this, and you ought to have yielded.' 



302 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

It was at any rate evident that Marie was 
holding out, was true to her first love, in spite of 
that betrothal which had appeared to George to 
be so wicked, but which had in truth been caused 
by his own fault. If Marie would hold out, there 
would be no need that he should lay violent 
hands upon Adrian Urmand, or have resort to 
any process of choking. If she would only be 
firm, they could not succeed in making her marry 
the linen - merchant. He was not in the least 
afraid of M. le Cure Gonclin ; nor was he afraid 
of Adrian Urmand. He was not much afraid of 
Madame Yoss. He was afraid only of his father. 
' A man cannot yield on such a matter,' he said. 
c ~No man yields in such an affair, — though he 
may be beaten.' Madame Yoss listened to him, 
but said nothing farther. She was busy with her 
work, and went on intently with her needle. 

He had asked to see Urmand, and he now 
went out in quest of him. He passed across the 
court, and in at the door of the cafe, and up into 
the billiard-room. Here he found both his father 
and the young man. Urmand got up to salute 
him, and George took off his hat. Nothing could 
be more ceremonious than the manner in which 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 303 

the two rivals greeted each, other. They had not 
seen each other for nearly two years, and had 
never been intimate. When George had been 
living at Granpere, Urmand had only been an 
occasional sojourner at the inn, and had not as 
yet fallen into habits of friendship with the Yoss 
family. 

' Have you seen your mother ?' Michel asked. 

c Yes ; I have seen her.' Then there was 
silence for awhile. Urmand knew not how to 
speak, and George was doubtful how to proceed 
in presence of his father. 

Then Michel asked another question. 'Are 
you going to stay long with us, George F 

' Certainly not long, father. I have brought 
nothing with me but what you see.' 

1 You have brought too much, if you have 
come to give us trouble.' 

Then there was another pause, during which 
George sat down in a corner, apart from them. 
Urmand took out a cigar and lit it, offering one 
to the innkeeper. But Michel Yoss shook his 
head. He was very unhappy, feeling that every- 
thing around him was wrong. Here was a son 
of his, of whom he was proud, the only living 



304 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

child of his first wife, a young man of whom all 
people said good things ; a son whom he had al- 
ways loved and trusted, and who even now, at 
this very moment, was showing himself to be a 
real man ; and yet he was forced to quarrel with 
this son, and say harsh things to him, and sit 
away from him with a man who was after all no 
more than a stranger to him, with whom he had 
no sympathy ; when it would have made him so 
happy to be leaning on his son's shoulder, and 
discussing their joint affairs with unreserved con- 
fidence, asking questions about wages, and sug- 
gesting possible profits. He was beginning to 
hate Adrian Urmand. He was beginning to 
hate the young man, although he knew that 
it was his duty to go on with the marriage. 
Urmand, as soon as his cigar was lighted, got 
up and began to knock the balls about on the 
table. That gloom of silence was to him most 
painful. 

c If you would not mind it, M. Urmand,' 
said George, i I should like to take a walk with 
you.' 

< To take a walk ?' 

' If it would not be disagreeable. Perhaps it 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 30 5 

would be well that you and I should have a few 
minutes of conversation.' 

' I will leave you together here,' said the fa- 
ther, ' if you, George, will promise me that there 
shall be no violence.' Urmand looked at the inn- 
keeper as though he did not like the proposition, 
but Michel took no notice of his look. 

' There certainly shall be none on my part,' 
said George. ' I don't know what M. Urmand's 
feelings may be.' 

'0 dear, no; nothing of the kind,' said Ur- 
mand. 6 But I don't exactly see what we are to 
talk about.' Michel, however, paid no attention 
to this, but walked slowly out of the room. ' I 
really don't know what there is to say,' continued 
Urmand, as he knocked the balls about with his 
cue. 

' There is this to say. That girl up there 
was induced to promise that she would be your 
wife, when she believed that — I had forgotten 
her,' 

' dear, no ; nothing of the kind.' 

' That is her story. Go and ask her. If it is 
so, or even if it suits her now to say so, you will 
hardly, as a man, endeavour to drive her into 

x 



306 THE GOLDEN LION. OF GRANPERE. 

a marriage which she does not wish. You will 
never do it, even if you do try. Though you go 
on trying till you drive her mad, she will never 
be your wife. But if you are a man, you will 
not continue to torment her, simply because you 
have got her uncle to back you.' 

' Who says she will never marry me ?' 

c I say so. She says so.' 

'We are betrothed to each other. Why 
should she not marry me ?' 

'Simply because she does not wish it. She 
does not love you. Is not that enough ? She 
does love another man; me — me — me. Is not 
that enough? Heaven and earth ! I would sooner 
go to the galleys, or break stones upon the roads, 
than take a woman to my bosom who was think- 
ing of some other man.' 

c That is all very fine.' 

' Let me tell you, that the other thing, that 
which you propose to do, is by no means fine. 
But I will not quarrel with you, if I can help it. 
Will you go away and leave us at peace ? They 
say you are rich and have a grand house. Surely 
you can do better than marry a poor innkeeper's 
niece — a girl that has worked hard all her life V 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 307 

1 1 could do better if I chose/ said Adrian 
Urmand. 

' Then go and do better. Do you not per- 
ceive that even my father is becoming tired of 
all the trouble you are making? Surely you 
will not wait till you are turned out of the 
house ?' 

i Who will turn me out of the house ?' 

i Marie will, and my father. Do you think 
he'll see her wither and droop and die, or 
perhaps go mad, in order that a promise may 
be kept to you ? Take the matter into your own 
hands at once, and say you will have no more to 
do with it. That will be the manly way.' 

{ Is that all you haye to say, my friend?' 
asked Urmand, assuming a voice that was in- 
tended to be indifferent. 

c Yes — that is all. But I mean to do some- 
thing more, if I am driven to it.' 

' Very well. When I want advice from you, 
I will come to you for it. And as for your 
doing, I believe you are not master here as yet. 
Good-morning.' So saying, Adrian Urmand left 
the room, and George Yoss in a few minutes fol- 
lowed him down the stairs. 



308 THE GOLDEN LION OE GBANPERE. 

The rest of the day was passed in gloom and 
■wretchedness. George hardly spoke to his father ; 
bnt the two sat at table together, and there was 
no open quarrel between them. Urmand also sat 
with them, and tried to converse with Michel 
and Madame Yoss. Bnt Michel would say very 
little to him ; and the mistress of the honse 
was so cowed by the circnm stances of the day, 
that she was hardly able to talk. Marie still 
kept her room ; and it was stated to them that 
she was not well and was in bed. Her uncle 
had gone to see her twice, bnt had made no 
report to any one of what had passed between 
them. 

It had come to be understood that George 
wonld sleep there, at any rate for that night, and 
a bed had been prepared for him. The party 
broke np very early, for there was nothing in 
common among them to keep them together. 
Madame Yoss sat murmuring with the priest for 
half an hour or so ; but it seemed that the gloom 
attendant upon the young lovers had settled also 
upon M. le Cure. Even he escaped as early as 
he could. 

"When George was about to undress himself 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 309 

there came a knock at his door, and one of the 
servant-girls put into his hand a scrap of paper. 
On it was written, ' I will never marry him, 
never — never — never ; upon my honour !' 



CHAPTEE XIX. 

Michael Yoss at this time was a very unhappy 
man. He had tanght himself to believe that it 
would be a good thing that his niece should marry 
Adrian Urmand, and that it was his duty to 
achieve this good thing in her behalf. He had 
had it on his mind for the last year, and had 
nearly brought it to pass. There was, moreover, 
now, at this present moment, a clear duty on him 
to be true to the young man who with his con- 
sent, and indeed very much at his instance, had 
become betrothed to Marie Bromar. The reader 
will understand how ideas of duty, not very 
clearly looked into or analysed, acted upon his 
mind. And then there was always present to 
him a recurrence of that early caution which had 
made him lay a parental embargo upon anything 
like love between his son and his wife's niece. 
Without much thinking about it, — for he prob- 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPEKE. 311 

ably never thought very much about anything, — 
he had deemed it prudent to separate two young 
people brought up together, when they began, as 
he fancied, to be foolish. An elderly man is so 
apt to look upon his own son as a boy, and on a 
girl who has grown up under his nose as little 
more than a child ! And then George in those 
days had had no business of his own, and should 
not have thought of such a thing ! In this way 
the mind of Michel Yoss had been forced into 
strong hostility against the idea of a marriage 
between Marie and his son, and had filled itself 
with the spirit of a partisan on the side of Adrian 
Urmancl. But now, as things had gone, he had 
been made very unhappy by the state of his own 
mind, and consequently was beginning to feel a 
great dislike for the merchant from Basle. The 
stupid mean little fellow, with his white pocket- 
handkerchief, and his scent, and his black greasy 
hair, had made his way into the house and had 
destroyed all comfort and pleasure ! That was 
the light in which Michel was now disposed to 
regard his previously honoured guest. When he 
made a comparison between Adrian and George, 
he could not but acknowledge that any girl of 



312 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEEE. 

spirit and sense would prefer his son. He was 
very proud of his son, — proud even of the lad's 
disobedience to himself on such a subject ; and 
this feeling added to his discomfort. 

He had twice seen Marie in her bed during 
that day spoken of in the last chapter. On both 
occasions he had meant to be very firm ; but it 
was not easy for such a one as Michel Voss to be 
firm to a young woman in her night- cap, rather 
pale, whose eyes were red with weeping. A wo- 
man in bed was to him always an object of tender- 
ness, and a woman in tears, as his wife well knew, 
could on most occasions get the better of him. 
When he first saw Marie, he merely told her to 
lie still and take a little broth. He kissed her 
however and patted her cheek, and then got out 
of the room as quickly as he could. He knew his 
own weakness, and was afraid to trust himself to 
her prayers while she lay before him in that 
guise. "When he went again, he had been unable 
not to listen to a word or two which she had pre- 
pared, and had ready for instant speech. l Uncle 
Michel,' she said, < I will never marry any one 
without your leave, if you will let M. XJrmand go 
away.' He had almost come to wish by this time 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 313 

that M. Urmand would go away and never come 
back again. ' How am I to send Mm away ?' he 
had said crossly. i If you tell him, I know he 
will go, — at once,' said Marie. Michel had mut- 
tered something about Marie's illness and the 
impossibility of doing anything at present, and 
again had left the room. Then Marie began to 
take heart of grace, and to think that victory 
might yet be on her side. But how was George 
to know that she was firmly determined to throw 
those odious betrothals to the wind ? Feeling it 
to be absolutely incumbent on her to convey to 
him this knowledge, she wrote the few words 
which the servant conveyed to her lover, — 
making no promise in regard to him, but simply 
assuring him that she would never, — never, — 
never become the wife of that other man. 

Early on the following morning Michel Yoss 
went off by himself. He could not stay in bed, 
and he could not hang about the house. He did 
not know how to demean himself to either of the 
young men when he met them. He could not be 
cordial as he ought to be with Urmand ; nor could 
he be austere to George with that austerity which 
he felt would have been proper on his part. He 



314 THE GOLDEN LION OE GRANPERE. 

was becoming very tired of his dignity and au- 
thority. Hitherto the exercise of power in his 
household had generally been easy enough, his 
wife and Marie had always been loving and plea- 
sant in their obedience. Till within these last 
weeks there had even been the most perfect ac- 
cordance between him and his niece. c Send him 
away ; — that's very easily said/ he muttered to 
himself as he went up towards the mountains ; 
c but he has got my engagement, and of course 
he'll hold me to it.' He trudged on, he hardly 
knew whither. He was so unhappy, that the mills 
and the timber- cutting were nothing to him. 
When he had walked himself into a heat, he sat 
down and took out his pipe, but he smoked more 
by habit than for enjoyment. Supposing that he 
did bring himself to change his mind, — which he 
did not think he ever would, — how could he 
break the matter to Urmand ? He told himself 
that he was sure he would not change his mind, 
because of his solemn engagement to the young 
man ; but he did acknowledge that the young 
man was not what he had taken him to be. He 
was effeminate, and wanted spirit, and smelt of 
hair-grease. Michel had discovered none of these 



THE GOLDEN LION OE GRANPERE. 315 

defects, — had perhaps regarded the characteristics 
as meritorious rather than otherwise, — while he 
had been hotly in favour of the marriage. Then 
the hair-grease and the rest of it had in his eyes 
simply been signs of the civilisation of the town 
as contrasted with the rusticity of the country. 
It was then a great thing in his eyes that Marie 
should marry a man so polished, though much of 
the polish may have come from pomade. Kow his 
ideas were altered, and, as he sat alone upon the 
log, he continued to turn up his nose at poor M. 
Urmancl. But how was he to be rid of him, — and, 
if not of him, what was he to do then ? Was he 
to let all authority go by the board, and allow the 
two young people to marry, although the whole 
village heard how he had pledged himself in this 
matter ? 

As he was sitting there, suddenly his son 
came upon him. He frowned and went on smok- 
ing, though at heart he felt grateful to George for 
having found him out and followed him. He was 
altogether tired of being alone, or, worse than 
that, of being left together with Adrian TJrmand. 
But the overtures for a general reconciliation 
could not come first from him, nor could any be 



316 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

entertained without at least some show of obedi- 
ence. c I thought I should find you up here,' said 
George. 

* And now you have found me, what of that ?' 

c I fancy we can talk better, father, up among 
the woods, than we can down there when that 
young man is hanging about. We always used 
to have a chat up here, you know.' 

' It was different then,' said Michel. c That 
was before you had learned to think it a fine 
thing to be your own master and to oppose me in 
everything.' 

i I have never opposed you but in one thing, 
father.' 

' Ah, yes; in one thing. But that one thing 
is everything. Here I've been doing the best I 
could for both of you, striving to put you upon 
your legs, and make you a man and her a woman, 
and this is the return I get !' 

< But what would you have had me do ?' 

< What would I have had you do ? Not come 
here and oppose me in everything.' 

' But when this Adrian Urmand— ' 
'I am sick of Adrian Urmand,' said Michel 
Yoss. George raised his eyebrows and stared. ' I 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPEKE. 317 

don't mean that/ said he ; ' but I am beginning to 
hate the very sight of the man. If he'd had the 
pluck of a wren, he would have carried her off 
long ago.' 

I I don't know how that may be, but he hasn't 
done it yet. Come, father ; you don't like the 
man any more than she does. If you get tired of 
him in three days, what would she do in her 
whole life?' 

' "Why did she accept him, then ?' 
' Perhaps, father, we were all to blame a little 
in that.' 

I I was not to blame — not in the least. I won't 
admit it. I did the best I could for her. She ac- 
cepted him, and they are betrothed. The Cure 
down there says it's nearly as good as being 
married.' 

' Who cares what Father Gondin says ?' asked 
George. 

' I'm sure I don't,' said Michel Yoss. 

£ The betrothal means nothing, father, if either 
of them choose to change their minds. There was 
that girl over at Saint Die.' 

i Don't tell me of the girl at Saint Die. I'm 
sick of hearing of the girl at Saint Die. What 



318 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

the mischief is the girl at Saint Die to us ? 
We've got to do our duty if we can, like honest 
men and women ; and not follow vagaries learned 
from Saint Die.' 

The two men walked down the hill together, 
reaching the hotel about noon. Long before that 
time the innkeeper had fallen into a way of ac- 
knowledging that Adrian Urmand was an incu- 
bus ; but he had not as yet quite admitted that 
there was any way of getting rid of the incubus. 
The idea of having the marriage on the 1st of 
the present month was altogether abandoned, and 
Michel had already asked how they might manage 
among them to send Adrian Urmand back to Basle. 
' He must come again, if he chooses,' he had said; 
' but I suppose he had better go now. Marie is 
ill, and she mustn't be worried.' George proposed 
that his father should tell this to Urmand him- 
self; but it seemed that Michel, who had never 
yet been known to be afraid of any man, was in 
some degree afraid of the little Swiss merchant. 

1 Suppose my mother says a word to him,' 
suggested George. 

i She wouldn't dare for her life,' answered the 
father. 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 319 

< I would do it.' 

'No, indeed, George; you shall do no such 
tiling.' 

Then George suggested the priest; but no- 
thing had been settled when they reached the 
inn-door. There he was, swinging a cane at the 
foot of the billiard-room stairs — the little bug-a- 
boo, who was now so much in the way of all of 
them ! The innkeeper muttered some salutation, 
and George just touched his hat. Then they both 
passed on, and went into the house. 

Unfortunately the plea of Marie's illness was 
in part cut from under their feet by the appear- 
ance of Marie herself. George, who had not as 
yet seen her, went up quickly to her, and, with- 
out saying a word, took her by the hand and held 
it. Marie murmured some pretence at a saluta- 
tion, but what she said was heard by no one. 
When her uncle came to her and kissed her, her 
hand was still grasped in that of George. All 
this had taken place in the passage ; and before 
Michel's embrace was over, Adrian Urmand was 
standing in the doorway looking on. George, 
when he saw him, held tighter by the hand, and 
Marie made no attempt to draw it away. 



320 TEE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPEEE. 

' What is the meaning of all this ?' said Ur- 
mand, coming up. 

' Meaning of what ?' asked Michel. 

' I don't understand it — I don't understand it 
at all,' said Urmand. 

' Don't understand what ?' said Michel. The 
two lovers were still holding each other's hands ; 
but Michel had not seen it ; or, seeing it, had not 
observed it. 

'Am I to understand that Marie Bromar is 
betrothed to me, or not?' demanded Adrian. 
'"When I get an answer either way, I shall 
know what to do.' There was in this an as- 
sumption of more spirit than had been expected 
on his part by his enemies at the Lion d'Or. 

'Why shouldn't you be betrothed to her?' 
said Michel. ' Of course you are betrothed to 
her ; but I don't see what is the use of your 
talking so much about it.' 

'It is the first time I have said a word on 
the subject since I've been here,' said Urmand. 
Which was true ; but as Michel was continually 
thinking of the betrothal, he imagined that every- 
body was always talking to him of the matter. 

Marie had now managed to get her hand free, 



THE GOLDEX LION OF GRA.NPERE. 321 

and had retired into the kitchen. Michel followed 
her, and stood meditative, with his back to the 
large stove. As it happened, there was no one 
else present there at the moment. 

'Tell him to go back to Basle,' whispered 
Marie to her uncle. Michel only shook his head 
and groaned. 

' I don't think I am at all well-treated here 
among you,' said Adrian Urmand to George as 
soon as they were alone. 

' Any special friendship from me you can 
hardly expect,' said George. l As to my father 
and the rest of them, if they ill-treat you, I sup- 
pose you had better leave them.' 

' I won't put up with ill-treatment from any- 
body. It's not what I'm used to.' 

'Look here, M. Urmand,' said George. C I 
quite admit you have been badly used ; and, on 
the part of the family, I am ready to apologise.' 

4 1 don't want any apology.' 

' "What do you want, M. Urmand ?' 

1 I want — I want — Never mind what I want. 
It is from your father that I shall demand it, not 
from you. I shall take care to see myself righted. 
I know the French law as well as the Swiss.' 

Y 



322 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

' If you- re talking of law, you had better go 
back to Basle and get a lawyer,' said George. 

There had been no word spoken of George 
returning to Colmar on that morning. He had 
told his father that he had brought nothing with 
him but what he had on ; and in truth when he 
left Colmar he had not looked forward to any 
welcome which would induce him to remain at 
Granpere. But the course of things had been 
different from that which he had expected. He 
was much too good a general to think of return- 
ing now, and he had friends in the house who 
knew how to supply him with what was most 
necessary to him. Nobody had asked him to stay. 
His father had not uttered a word of welcome. 
But he did stay, and Michel would have been very 
much surprised indeed if he had heard that he 
had gone. The man in the stable had ventured 
to suggest that the old mare would not be wanted 
to go over the mountain that day. To this George 
assented, and made special request that the old 
mare might receive gentle treatment. 

And so the day passed away. Marie, who had 
recovered her health, was busy as usual about the 
house. George and Urmand, though they did 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 323 

not associate, were rarely long out of each other's 
sight; and neither the one nor the other found 
much opportunity for pressing his suit. George 
probably felt that there was not much need to do 
so, and Urmand must have known that any press- 
ing of his suit in the ordinary way would be of 
no avail. The innkeeper tried to make work for 
himself about the place, had the carriages out and 
washed, inspected the horses, and gave orders as 
to the future slaughter of certain pigs. Every- 
body about the house, nevertheless, down to the 
smallest boy attached to the inn, knew that the 
landlord's mind was pre -occupied with the love 
affairs of those two men. There was hardly an 
inhabitant of Granpere who did not understand 
what was going on ; and, had it been the custom 
of the place to make bets on such matters, very 
long odds would have been wanted before any 
one would have backed Adrian Urmand. And yet 
two days ago he was considered to be sure of 
the prize. M. le Cure Gondin was a good deal at 
the hotel during the day, and perhaps he was the 
stanchest supporter of the Swiss aspirant. He 
endeavoured to support Madame Voss, having 
that strong dislike to yield an inch in practice 



324 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

or in doctrine, which is indicative of his order. 
He strove hard to make Madame Yoss understand 
that if only she would be firm and cause her hus- 
band to be firm also, Marie would, of course, yield 
at last. ' I have ever so many young women just 
in the same way,' said the Cure, ' and you would 
have thought they were going to break their 
hearts ; but as soon as ever they have been mar- 
ried, they have forgotten all that.' Madame Yoss 
would have been quite contented to comply with 
the priest's counsel, could she have seen the way 
with her husband. But it had become almost 
manifest even to her, with the Cure to support 
her, that the star of Adrian Urmand was on the 
wane. She felt from every word that Marie spoke 
to her, that Marie herself was confident of suc- 
cess. And it may be said of Madame Yoss, that 
although she had been forced by Michel into a 
kind of enthusiasm on behalf of the Swiss mar- 
riage, she had no very eager wishes of her own 
on the subject. Marie was her own niece, and 
was dear to her ; but the girl was sure of a well- 
to-do husband whichever way the war went ; and 
what aunt need desire more for her most favourite 
niece than a well-to-do husband ? 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANFEEE. 3 



OK 



The day -went by, and the supper was eaten, 
and the cigars were smoked, and then they all 
went to bed. But nothing more had been settled. 
That obstinate young man, M. Adrian Urmancl, 
though he had talked of his lawyer, had said not 
a word of going back to Basle. 



CHAPTER XX. 

It is probable that all those concerned in the 
matter who slept at the Lion d'Or that night, 
made up their minds that on the following day 
the powers of the establishment must come to 
some decision. It was not right that a young 
woman should have to live in the house with two 
favoured lovers ; nor, as regarded the young men, 
was it right that they should be allowed to go on 
glaring at each other. Both Michel and Madame 
Voss feared that they would do more than glare, 
seeing that they were so like two dogs with one 
bone between them, who, in such an emergency, 
will generally fight. Urmand himself was quite 
alive to the necessity of putting an end to his 
present exceptionally disagreeable position. He 
was very angry ; very angry naturally with Marie, 
who had, he thought, treated him villanously. Why 
had she made that little soft, languid promise to 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 327 

him when he was last at Granpere, if she had 
not then loved him ? And of course he was angry 
with George Voss. What unsuccessful lover fails 
of being angry with his happy rival ? And then 
George had behaved with outrageous impropriety. 
Urmand was beginning now to have a clear in- 
sight of the circumstances. George and Marie 
had been lovers, and then George, having been 
sent away, had forgotten his love for a year or 
more. But when the girl had been accommodated 
with another lover, then he thrust himself for- 
ward and disturbed everybody's arrangements ! 
No conduct could have been worse than this. 
But, nevertheless, Urmand' s anger was the hot- 
test against Michel Yoss himself. Had he been 
left alone at Basle, had he been allowed to receive 
Marie's letter, and act upon it in accordance with 
his own judgment, he would never have made 
himself ridiculous by appearing at Granpere as a 
discomfited lover. But the innkeeper had come 
and dragged him away from home, had misrepre- 
sented everything, had carried him away, as it 
were, by force to the scene of his disgrace, and 
now — threw him over ! He, at any rate, he, 
Michel Yoss, should, as Adrian Urmand felt very 



328 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEKE. 

bitterly, have been true and constant ; but Michel, 
whose face could not lie, whatever his words 
might do, was clearly as anxious to be rid of his 
young friend as were any of the others in the 
hotel. Urmand himself would have been very 
glad to be back at Basle. He had come to re- 
gard any farther connection with the inn at 
Granpere as extremely undesirable. The Voss 
family was low. He had found that out during 
his present visit. But how was he to get away, 
and not look, as he was going, like a dog with 
his tail between his legs ? He had so clear a 
right to demand Marie's hand, that he could not 
bring himself to bear to be robbed of his claim. 
And yet he had come to perceive how very fool- 
ish such a marriage would be. He had been told 
that he could do better. Of course he could do 
better. But how could he be rid of his bargain 
without submitting to ill-treatment ? If Michel 
had not come and fetched him away from his home 
the ill-treatment would have been by comparison 
slight, and of that normal kind to which young 
men are accustomed. But to be brought over to 
the house, and then to be deserted by everybody 
in the house ! How, how, was he to get out 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GBANPEEE. 329 

of the house ? Such were his reflections as he 
sat solitary iu the long public room drinking his 
coffee, and eating an omelet, with which Peter 
Yeque had supplied him, but which had in truth 
been cooked for him very carefully by Marie 
Bromar herself. In her present frame of mind 
Marie would have cooked ortolans for him had 
he wished for them. 

And while Urmand was eating his omelet and 
thinking of his wrongs, Michel Yoss and his son 
were standing together at the stable door. Mi- 
chel had been there some time before his son had 
joined him, and when George came up to him 
he put out his hand almost furtively. George 
grasped it instantly, and then there came a tear 
into the innkeeper's eye. 1 1 have brought you 
a little of that tobacco we were talking of,' said 
George, taking a small packet out of his pocket. 

' Thank ye, George ; thank ye ; but it does 
not much matter now what I smoke. Things are 
going wrong, and I don't get satisfaction out of 
anything.' 

' Don't say that, father.' 

' How can I help saying it ? Look at that 
fellow up there. What am I to do with him ? 



330 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

"What am I to say to him ? He means to stay 
there till he gets his wife.' 

' He'll never get a wife here, if he stays till 
the honse falls on him.' 

1 1 can see that now. But what am I to say 
to him ? How am I to get rid of him ? There 
is no denying, yon know, that he has been treated 
badly among us.' 

' Would he take a little money, father ?' 

' No. He's not so bad as that.' 

i I should not have thought so ; only he 
talked to me about his lawyer.' 

c Ah ; — he did that in his anger. By George, 
if I was in his position I should try and raise the 
very devil. But don't talk of giving him money, 
George. He's not bad in that way.' 

' He shouldn't have said anything about his 
lawyer.' 

' You wait till you're placed as he is, and 
you'll find that you'll say anything that comes 
uppermost. But what are we to do with him, 
George ?' 

Then the matter was discussed in the utmost 
confidence, and in all its bearings. George 
offered to have a carriage and pair of horses got 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 331 

ready for Bemiremont, and then to tell the young 
man that he was "expected to get into it, and go 
away; but Michel felt that there must be some 
more ceremonious treatment than that. George 
then suggested that the Cure should give the mess- 
age, but Michel again objected. The message, he 
felt, must be given by himself. The doing this 
would be very bitter to him, because it would be 
necessary that he should humble himself before 
the scented shiny head of the little man : but 
Michel knew that it must be so. Urmand had 
been undoubtedly ill-treated among them, and 
the apology for that ill-treatment must be made 
by the chief of the family himself. ' I suppose I 
might as well go to him alone,' said Michel, 
groaning. 

' Well, yes; I should say so,' replied his son. 
' Soonest begun, soonest over ; — and I suppose I 
might as well order the horses.' 

To this latter suggestion the father made no 
reply, but went slowly into the house. He 
turned for a moment into Marie's little office, and 
stood there hesitating whether he would tell her 
his mission. As she was to be made happy, why 
should she not know it ? 



332 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

1 You two have got the better of me among 
you,' he said. 

< Which two, Uncle Michel?' 

c Which two ? Why, you and George. And 
what I'm to do with the gentleman upstairs, it 
passes me to think. Thank heaven, it will be a 
great many years before Flos wants a husband.' 

Flos was the little daughter up-stairs, who 
was as yet no more than five years old. 

c I hope, Uncle Michel, you'll never have an}^- 
body else as naughty and troublesome as I have 
been,' said Marie, pressing close to him. She was 
indescribably happy. She was to be saved from 
the lover whom she did not want. She was to 
have the lover whom she did want. And, over 
and above all this, a spirit of kind feeling and full 
sympathy existed once more between her and her 
dear friend. As she offered no advice in regard 
to the disposal of the gentleman up-stairs, Michel 
was obliged to go upon his painful duty, trusting 
to his own wit. 

In the long room up-stairs he found Adrian 
Urmand sitting at the closed window, looking out 
at the ducks who were paddling in a temporary 
pool made by the late rains. He had been pain- 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 333 

fully in want of something to do, — so much so 
that he had more than once almost resolved to 
put his things into his bag, and leave the house 
without saying a word of farewell to any one. 
Had there been any means for him to escape from 
Granpere without saying a word, he would have 
done so. But at Granpere there was no railway, 
and the only public conveyance in and out of the 
place started from the door of the Lion d'Or; — 
started every morning, with much ceremony, so 
that it was impossible for him to fly unobserved. 
There he was, watching the ducks, when Michel 
entered the room, and very much disposed to 
quarrel with any one who approached him. 

'I'm. afraid you find it rather dull here,' said 
Michel, beginning the conversation. 

' It is dull ; very dull indeed.' 

c That is the worst of it. We are dull people 
here in the country. We have not the distrac- 
tions which you town folk can always find. 
There's not much to do, and nothing to look at.' 

1 Very little to look at, that's worth the trou- 
ble of looking,' said Urmand. 

There was a malignity of satire intended in 
this ; for the young man in his wrath, and with 



334 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

a full conviction of what was coming upon him, 
had intended to include his betrothed in the cata- 
logue of things of Granpere not worthy of inspec- 
tion. But Michel Yoss did not at all follow him 
so far as that. 

' I never saw such a place,' continued Urmand. 
' There isn't a soul even to play a game of bil- 
liards with.' 

Now Michel Yoss, although for a purpose he 
had been willing to make little of his own village, 
did in truth consider that Granpere was at any 
rate as good a place to live in as Basle. And he 
felt that though he might abuse Granpere, it was 
very uncourteous in Adrian Urmand to do so. 1 1 
don't think much of playing billiards in the morn- 
ing, I must own,' said he. 

' I daresay not,' said Urmand, still looking at 
the ducks. 

Michel had made no progress as yet, so he 
sat down and scratched his head. The more he 
thought of it, the larger the difficulty seemed to 
be. He was quite aware now that it was his own 
unfortunate journey to Basle which had brought 
so heavy a burden on him. It was as yet no 
mor e than three or four days since he had taken 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEKE. 335 

upon himself to assure the young man that he, 
by his own authority, would make everything 
right ; and now he was forced to acknowledge 
that everything was wrong. ' M. Urmand,' he 
said at last, i it has been a very great grief to me, 
a very great grief indeed, that you should have 
found things so uncomfortable.' 

c What things do you mean ?' said Urmand. 

'Well — everything — about Marie, you know. 
When I went over to Basle the other day, I 
didn't think how it was going to turn out. I 
didn't indeed.' 

1 And how is it going to turn out ?' 

c I can't make the young woman consent, you 
know,' said the innkeeper. 

' Let me tell you, M. Yoss, that I wouldn't 
have the young woman, as you call her, if she 
consented ever so much. She has disgraced me.' 

To this Michel listened with perfect equan- 
imity. 

1 She has disgraced you.' 

At hearing this Michel bit his lips, telling 
himself, however, that there had been mistakes 
made, and that he was bound to bear a good deal. 

c And she has disgraced herself,' said Adrian 



336 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRAXPERE. 

Urmand, with all the emphasis that he had at 
command. 

' I deny it,' said Marie's nncle, coming close 
up to his opponent, and standing before him. ' I 
deny it. It is not trne. That shall not be said 
in my hearing, even by yon.' 

c Bnt I do say it. She has disgraced herself. 
Did she not give me her troth, when all the time 
she intended to marry another man?' 

c ]STo ! She did nothing of the kind. And 
look here, my friend, if yon wish to be treated 
like a man in this honse, yon had better not say 
anything against any of the women who live 
in it. Yon may abnse me as mnch as yon please, 
— and George too, if it will do yon any good. 
There have been mistakes made, and we owe yon 
something.' 

' By heavens, yes; yon do.' 

c Bnt yon sha'n't take it ont in saying any- 
thing against Marie Bromar, — not in my hear- 
ing.' 

' Why ; — what will yon do ?' 

fc Don't drive me to do anything, M. Urmand. 
If there is any compensation possible — ' 

' Of conrse there must be compensation.' 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 337 

1 What is it you will take ? Is it money ?' 

' Money; — no. As for money, I'm better off 
than any of you.' 

1 What is it, then ? You don't want the girl 
herself?' 

c No ; — certainly not. I would not take her 
if she came and knelt to me.' 

1 What can we do, then ? If you will only 
say.' 

' I want — I want — I don't know what I want. 
I have been cruelly ill-used, and made a fool of 
before everybody. I never heard of such a case 
before ; — never. And I have been so generous 
and honest to you ! I did not ask for a franc of 
dot; and now you come and offer me money. I 
don't think any man ever was so badly used any- 
where.' And on saying this Adrian Urmand in 
very truth burst into tears. 

The innkeeper's heart was melted at once. It 
was all so true ! Between them they had treated 
him very badly. But then there had been so 
many unfortunate and unavoidable mistakes ! 
When the young man talked of compensation, 
what was Michel Yoss to think ? His son had 
been led into exactly the same error. Neverthe- 

z 



338 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

less, he repented himself bitterly in that he had 
said anything about money, and was prepared to 
make the most abject apologies. Adrian Urmand 
had fallen into a chair, and Michel Yoss came 
and seated himself close beside him. 

' I beg your pardon, Urmand ; I do indeed. I 
ought not to have mentioned money. But when 
you spoke of compensation — ' 

' It wasn't that. It wasn't that. It's my 
feelings !' 

Then the white cambric handkerchief was 
taken out and used with considerable vehemence. 

From that moment the innkeeper's goodwill 
towards Urmand returned, though of course he 
was quite aware that there was no place for him 
in that family. 

4 If there is anything I can do, I will do it,' 
said Michel piteously. ' It has been unfortunate. 
I know it has been very unfortunate. But we 
didn't mean to be untrue.' 

1 If you had only left me alone when I was at 
home !' said the unfortunate young man, who 
was still sobbing bitterly. 

They two remained in the long room together 
for a considerable time, during all of which 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 339 

Michel Yoss was as gentle as though Urmand 
had been a child. Nor did the poor rejected 
lover again have recourse to any violence of 
abuse, though he would over and over again re- 
peat his opinion that surely, since lovers were 
first known in the world, and betrothals of mar- 
riage first made, no one had ever been so ill-used 
as was he. It soon became clear to Michel that 
his great grief did not come from the loss of his 
wife, but from the feeling that everybody would 
know that he had been ill-used. There wasn't a 
shopkeeper in his own town, he said, who hadn't 
heard of his approaching marriage. And what 
was he to say when he went back ? 

c Just say that you found us so rough and 
rustic,' said Michel Yoss. 

But Urmand knew well that no such saying 
on his part would be believed. 

'I think I shall go to Lyons,' said he, 'and 
stay there for six months. What's the business 
to me ? I don't care for the business.' 

There they sat all the morning. Two or 
three times Peter Yeque opened the door, peeped 
in at them, and then brought down word that the 
conference was still going on. 



340 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

'The master is sitting just over him like,' 
said Peter, i and they're as close and loving as 
birds.' 

Marie listened, and said not a word to any 
one. George had made two or three little at- 
tempts during the morning to entice her into 
some lover-like privacy. But Marie would not be 
enticed. The man to whom she was betrothed 
was still in the house; and, though she was 
quite secure that the betrothals would now be 
absolutely annulled, still she would not actually 
entertain another lover till this was done. 

At length the door of the long room was 
opened, and the two men came out. Adrian Ur- 
mand, who was the first to be seen in the passage, 
went at once to his bedroom, and then Michel de- 
scended to the little parlour. Marie was at the 
moment sitting on her stool of authority in the 
office, from whence she could hear what was said 
in the parlour. Satisfied with this, she did not 
come clown from her seat. In the parlour was 
Madame Yoss and the Cure, and George, who 
had seen his father from the front door, at once 
joined them. 

< Well,' said Madame Yoss, i how is it to be?' 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPEEE. 341 

i I've arranged that we're to have a little pic- 
nic up the ravine to-morrow,' said Michel. 

1 A picnic !' said the Cure. 

c I'm all for a picnic,' said George. 

' A picnic !' said Madame Yoss, 'and the ground 
as wet as a sop, and the wind from the mountains 
enough to cut one in two.' 

' Never mind about the wind. We'll take 
coats and umbrellas. It's better to have some 
kind of an outing, and then he'll recover himself.' 

Marie, as she heard all this, made up her 
mind that if any possible store of provisions 
packed in hampers could bring her late lover 
round to equanimity, no efforts on her part should 
be wanting. She would pack up cold chickens 
and champagne bottles with the greatest pleasure, 
and would eat her dinner sitting on a rock, even 
though the wind from the mountains should cut 
her in two. 

< And so it's all to end in a picnic,' said M. 
le Curd, with evident disgust. 

It appeared from Michel's description of what 
had taken place during that very long interview 
that Adrian Urmand had at last become quite 
gentle and confidential. In what way could he 



342 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

be let down the most easily ? That was the ques- 
tion for the answering which these two heads 
were kept together in conference so long. How 
could it be made to appear that the betrothal had 
been annulled by mutual consent ? At last the 
happy idea of a picnic occurred to Michel him- 
self. ' I never thought about the time of the 
year,' he said ; ' but when friends are here and 
we want to do our best for them, we always take 
them to the ravine, and have dinners on the rocks.' 
It had seemed to him, and as he declared to Ur- 
mand also, that if something like a jubilee could 
be got up before the young man's departure, it 
would appear as though there could not have 
been much disappointment. 

'We shall all catch our death of cold,' said 
Madame Yoss. 

'We needn't stay long, you know/ said 
Michel. ' And, Marie,' said he, going into the 
little office in which his niece was still seated, 
' Marie, mind you behave yourself.' 

'0, I will, Uncle Michel,' she said. 'You 
shall see.' 



CHAPTER XXI. 

They all sat down, together at supper that even- 
ing, Marie dispensing her soup as usual before 
she went to the table. She sat next to her uncle 
on one side, and below her there were vacant 
seats. Urmand took a chair on the left hand of 
Madame Voss, next to him was the Cure, and 
below the Cure the happy rival. It had all been 
arranged by Marie herself, with the greatest care. 
Urmand seemed to have got over the worst of 
his trouble, and when Marie came to the table 
bowed to her graciously. She bowed in return, 
and then eat her soup in silence. Michel Voss 
overdid his part a little by too much talking, but 
his wife restored the balance by her prudence. 
George told them how strong the French party 
was at Colmar, and explained that the Germans 
had not a leg to stand upon as far as general 
opinion went. Before the supper was over, Ad- 



344 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

rian Urmancl was talking glibly enough ; and it 
really seemed as though the terrible misfortunes 
of the Lion d'Or would arrange themselves com- 
fortably after all. "When supper was done, the 
father, son, and the discarded lover smoked their 
pipes together amicably in the billiard room. 
There was not a word said then by either of 
them in connection with Marie Bromar. 

On the next morning the sun was bright, and 
the air was as warm as it ever is in October. 
The day, perhaps, might not have been selected 
for an out-of-doors party had there been no special 
reason for such an arrangement ; but seeing how 
strong a reason existed, even Madame Yoss ac- 
knowledged that the morning was favourable. 
While those pipes of peace were being smoked 
over night, Marie had been preparing the ham- 
pers. On the next morning nobody except Marie 
herself was very early. It was intended that the 
day should be got through at any rate with a pre- 
tence of pleasure, and they were all to be as idle, 
and genteel, and agreeable as possible. It had 
been settled that they should start at twelve. 
The drive, unfortunately, would not consume 
much more than half an hour. Then what with 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GKANPERE. 345 

unpacking, climbing about the rocks, and throw- 
ing stones down into the river, they would get 
through the time till two. At two they would 
eat their dinner — with all their shawls and great- 
coats around them — then smoke their cigars, and 
come back when they found it impossible to drag 
out the day any longer. Marie was not to talk 
to George, and was to be specially courteous to 
M. Urmancl. The two old ladies accompanied 
them, as did also M. le Cure Gondin. The pro- 
gramme for the day did not seem to be very de- 
lightful ; but it appeared to Michel Yoss that in 
this way, better than in any other, could some 
little halo be thrown over the parting hours of 
poor Adrian Urmand. 

Everything went as well as could have been 
anticipated = They managed to delay their depar- 
ture till nearly half-past twelve, and were so lost 
in wonder at the quantity of water running down 
the fall in the ravine, that there had hardly been 
any heaviness of time when they seated them- 
selves on the rocks at half-past two. 

c Now for the business of the day,' said Mi- 
chel, as, standing up, he plunged a knife and 
fork into a large pie which he had placed on a 



346 THE GOLDEN LION OF GEANPERE. 

boulder before him. ' Marie has got no soup for 
us here, so we must begin with the solids at once.' 
Soon after that one cork might have been heard 
to fly, and then another, and no stranger looking 
on would have believed how dreadful had been 
the enmity existing on the previous day — or, in- 
deed, how great a cause for enmity there had 
been. Michel himself was very hilarious. If 
he could only obliterate in any way the evil which 
he had certainly inflicted on that unfortunate 
young man ! ' Urmand, my friend, another glass 
of wine. George, fill our friend Urmand's glass; 
not so quickly, George, not so quickly ; you give 
him nothing but the froth. Adrian Urmand, 
your very good health. May you always be a 
happy and successful man!' So saying, Michel 
Yoss drained his own tumbler. 

Urmand, at the moment, was seated in a niche 
among the rocks, in which a cushion out of the 
carriage had been placed for his special accommo- 
dation. Indeed, every comfort and luxury had 
been showered upon his head to compensate him 
for his lost bride. This was the third time that 
he had been by name invited to drink his wine, 
and three times he had obeyed. Now, feeling 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 347 

himself to be summoned in a very peculiar way 
— feeling also, perhaps, that that which might 
have made others drunk had made him bold, he 
extricated himself from his niche, and stood upon 
his legs among the rocks. He stood upon his legs 
among the rocks, and with a graceful movement 
of his arm, waved the glass above his head. 

' We are delighted to have you here among 
us, my friend,' said Michel Yoss, who also, per- 
haps, had been made bold. Madame Yoss, who 
was close to her husband, pulled him by the 
sleeve. Then he seated himself, but Adrian Ur- 
mand was left standing among them. 

1 My friend,' said he, ' and you, Madame Yoss 
particularly, I feel particularly obliged to you for 
this charming entertainment.' Then the inn- 
keeper cheered his guest, whereupon Madame 
Yoss pulled her husband's sleeve harder than be- 
fore. 1 1 am, indeed,' continued Uraiand. l The 
best thing will be,' said he, 'to make a clean 
breast of it at once. You all know why I came 
here, — and you all know how I'm going back/ 
At this moment his voice faltered a little, and he 
almost sobbed. Both the old ladies immediately 
put their handkerchiefs to their eyes. Marie 



48 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 



blushed and turned away her face on to her 
uncle's shoulder. Madame Voss remained im- 
movable. She dreaded greatly any symptoms of 
that courage which follows the flying of corks. 
In truth, however, she had nothing now to fear. 
' Of course, I feel it a little/ continued Adrian 
Urmand. ' That is only natural. I suppose it 
was a mistake ; but it has been rather trying to 
me. But I am ready to forget and forgive, and 
that is all I've got to say.' This speech, which as- 
tonished them all exceedingly, remained unan- 
swered for some few moments, during which 
Urmand had sunk back into his niche. Michel 
Yoss was not ready-witted enough to reply to his 
guest at the moment, and George was aware that 
it w^ould not be fitting for him, the triumphant 
lover, to make any reply. He could hardly have 
spoken without showing his triumph. During 
this short interval no one said a word, and Ur- 
mand endeavoured to assume a look of gloomy 
dignity. 

But at last Michel Voss got upon his legs, 
his wife giving him various twitches on the sleeve 
as he did so. ' I never was so much affected in 
my life,' said he, ' and upon my word I think that 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 349 

our excellent friend Adrian Urmand has behaved 
as well in a trying difficulty as, — as, — as any man 
ever did. I needn't say much about it, for we all 
know what it was. And we all know that young 
women will be young women, and that they are 
very hard to manage.' ' Don't, Uncle Michel,' 
said Marie in a whisper. But Michel was too 
bold to attend either to whisperings or pullings 
of the sleeve, and went on with his speech. ' There 
has been a slight mistake, but I hope sincerely 
that everything has now been made right. Here 
is our friend Adrian Urmand' s health, and I am 
quite sure that we all hope that he may get an 
excellent, beautiful young wife, with a good 
dowry, and that before long.' Then he too sat 
clown, and all the ladies drank to the health and 
future fortunes of M. Adrian Urmand. 

Upon the whole the rejected lover liked it. 
At any rate it was better so than being alone and 
moody r and despised of all people. He would 
know now how to get away from Granpere with- 
out having to plan a surreptitious escape. Of 
course he had come out intending to be miserable, 
to be known as an ill-used man who had been 
treated with an amount of cruelty surpassing all 



350 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

that had ever been told of in love histories. To 
be depressed by the weight of the ill-nsage which 
he had borne was a part of the play which he had 
to act. But the play when acted after this 
fashion had in it something of pleasing excite- 
ment, and he felt assured that he was exhibiting 
dignity in very adverse circumstances. George 
Yoss was probably thinking ill of the young man 
all the while ; but every one else there conceived 
that M. Urmand bore himself well under most 
trying circumstances. After the banquet was 
over Marie expressed herself so much touched as 
almost to incur the jealousy of her more fortu- 
nate lover. When the speeches were finished the 
men made themselves happy with their cigars and 
wine till Madame Yoss declared that she was al- 
ready half-dead with the cold and damp, and then 
they all returned to the inn in excellent spirits. 
That which had made so bold both Michel and 
his guest had not been allowed to have any more 
extended or more deleterious effect. 

On the next morning M. Urmand returned 
home to Basle, taking the public conveyance as 
far as Eemiremont. Everybody was up to see 
him off, and Marie herself gave him his cup of 



THE GOLDEN LION OE GRANPERE. 351 

coffee at parting. It was pretty to see the mingled 
grace and shame with which the littie ceremony- 
was performed. She hardly said a word ; indeed 
what word she did say was heard by no one ; but 
she crossed her hands on her breast, and the 
gravest smile came over her face, and she turned 
her eyes down to the ground, and if any one ever 
begged pardon without a word spoken, Marie 
Bromar then asked Adrian Urmand to pardon her 
the evil she had wrought upon him. <0, yes; 
— of course,' he said. i It's all right. It's all 
right.' Then she gave him her hand, and said 
good-bye, and ran away up into her room. 
Though she had got rid of one lover, not a word 
had yet been said as to her uncle's acceptance of 
that other lover on her behalf; nor had any 
words more tender been spoken between her and 
George than those with which the reader has been 
made acquainted. 

' And now,' said George, as soon as the dili- 
gence had started out of the yard. 

1 Well ;— and what now ?' asked the father. 

i I must be off to Colmar next.' 

1 Not to-day, George.' 

i Yes ; to-day ; — or this evening at least. But 



352 THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 

I must settle something first. What do you say, 
father ?' Michel Yoss stood for a while with his 
hands in his pockets and his head turned away. 
' You know what I mean, father.' 

' yes ; I know what you mean.' 

' I don't suppose you'll say anything against 
it now.' 

' It wouldn't be any good, I suppose, if I did,' 
said Michel, crossing over the courtyard to the 
other part of the establishment. He gave no far- 
ther permission than this, but George thought 
that so much was sufficient. 

George did return to Colmar that evening, 
being in all matters of business a man accurate 
and resolute ; but he did not go till he had been 
thoroughly scolded for his misconduct by Marie 
Bromar. ' It was your fault,' said Marie. ' Your 
fault from beginning to end.' 

' It shall be if you say so,' answered George ; 
4 but I can't say that I see it.' 

' If a person goes away for more than twelve 
months and never sends a word or a message or a 
sign, what is a person to think, George ?' He 
could only promise her that he would never leave 
her again even for a month. 



THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE. 353 

How they were married in November, and 
how Madame Faragon was brought over to Gran- 
pere with infinite trouble, and how the household 
linen got itself marked at last, with a V instead 
of a U, the reader can understand without the 
narration of farther details. 



THE END. 



LONDON! 
EOBSON AND SONS, PRINTERS, PANCRAS ROAD, N.W. 



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